


Own Goal

by mag_lex



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Also a bit of lovers to enemies to friends, Alternate Universe, Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Football!AU, I know very little about football, Jules is lonely, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Trauma, Yaz is sad, and a gay mess, and confused, but here we go, except more gay, mini homage to Bend it Like Beckham, please see chapter notes for warnings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:01:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 49
Words: 199,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22971412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mag_lex/pseuds/mag_lex
Summary: Yasmin Khan feels trapped and needs an escape from everyday life. She lives at home while she works towards passing police probation alongside her partner, Bill. Apart from work, all she does is sleep and her social life is barely existent.She finally finds refuge in a local football team, but in the process encounters someone who gets well and truly under her skin: an enigmatic opposing player named Jules who has Yaz in her sights and a dark past that leaves Yaz wanting to know more.Featuring all the gay drama you could ever need (and minimal football).
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 1365
Kudos: 630
Collections: Thasmin! Fics!





	1. Yaz

**Author's Note:**

> Today is the last day of series 12 and in a bid to forget this (insert several crying emojis here), I'm posting the first chapter. Good luck to all of us for later <3
> 
> For any American readers - you've probably figured this out, but by football I mean soccer ;)

The sound of the locker door slamming shut reverberated around the cramped room with a hollow clang. ****

Her fellow officers barely batted an eye, too busy chatting amongst themselves at the end of their own shifts, but Yasmin Khan winced at the racket. She hadn’t meant to shut it so hard, but it had been a long day - scratch that, a very long day - and she was running on nowhere near enough sleep after Sonya’s late-night Facetime conversations had kept her awake. That, and a consistently messed up shift pattern thanks to her sadistic supervisor meant that Yaz had barely any idea of what day it even was. ****

The only thing she did know? She had tomorrow off, and she planned to spend most of it asleep. If she could. ****

“Mate. What did that locker ever do to you?” ****

Yaz rolled her eyes and turned to look at the woman who’d sidled up next to her, cheeky grin in place. ****

“It existed.” Even Yaz could hear how bitter she sounded, but she was far too tired to apply a filter. ****

“Ouch. I know it’s made of metal but I’m pretty sure you just hurt its feelings.” ****

Yaz smiled at that and cocked her head as she regarded her partner fondly. ****

“Since when did you get so soft, Bill?” ****

“Oh, you know me. Big softie. Locker rights and all that.” ****

Yaz had to laugh at that, despite herself. Bill always knew exactly what to say to cheer her up and she regretted her moody slip-up, momentary as it was. ****

“You’re right. Let’s just say it’s been a long week.” ****

“Tell me about it, I was there!” Bill laughed, opening up her own locker and squinting at the mess Yaz knew was inside it. No matter how shitty their day had been, Bill was perennially upbeat. Yaz wished she could be the same, but she also knew that Bill didn’t have a sister and a thin bedroom wall. In fact, Bill had a place of her own. ****

“And how are you going to unwind after the week from hell?” Bill asked, genuinely interested, as she tugged out a gym bag. Seconds later she held her hands up to stop the avalanche of other items that tried to follow suit, rapidly shoving them back in before they could cascade outwards. She wasn’t quick enough, though, and a few items fell to the floor. ****

“Other than by cleaning up your mess?” Yaz replied, scooping up an empty water bottle, a packet of crisps, and a dog-eared paperback that had escaped.

“Yes, dear,” Bill retorted, hefting the bag onto her shoulder and throwing the other items back in. “So?” Bill was persistent and Yaz knew she wouldn’t let her leave without an answer. It was partly why she was so good at her job. Yaz had learned a lot from her already but they were a good team, and they balanced one another out well. ****

“I dunno. Maybe see a film. I’m not feeling up to much,” Yaz admitted, finally unzipping her fluorescent vest and folding it carefully. She’d take the rest of her uniform home for a wash, which was very much needed after a drunk had spilled half a pint on it. Spending half the day in damp, beer-y trousers hadn’t done much for her mood. The plus side of still living at home? Her mum did her laundry. ****

Yaz sighed at the thought. She didn't even wash her own clothes. There really was no privacy or personal space, anywhere, and with the way her parents insisted on looking after her, she still felt like a kid. Even her time at work was spent in someone else’s company. Yaz was just grateful she had Bill for a partner. It could have been much worse; she could have ended up with Owen, whom she despised.

“You alright, mate?” Bill asked, sensing all was not well. ****

Yaz avoided eye contact, fiddling with the material in her hands. She had no idea why she’d slammed her locker, other than a need to feel catharsis; she still needed her stuff out of it. Yaz eased it open and chucked her vest inside, watching with satisfaction as the careful folds came rapidly undone.

“You know, same old. I need to move out.” ****

“Ahh. Yeah, I feel you,” Bill nodded sympathetically. They’d talked about Yaz’s home life before, during long shifts. “Moira could be a bit much, sometimes.” ****

Yaz mentally kicked herself. She knew her family drove her mad, but at least she had some. Bill, on the other hand, did not. ****

“Sorry, Bill. I know it’s not even that bad-” ****

“Hey, I know what you mean,” Bill smiled warmly. No harm done. “It’s ok, you know? Family, whatever they are, are enough to drive anyone mad.” ****

“Yeah. You’re not wrong.” ****

Yaz pulled out her bag of personal items, knowing there was probably no point in even checking her phone; the only people who were likely to have been in contact were her mum or the GP, reminding her of her appointment tomorrow. ****

She looked anyway, and was entirely unsurprised by the notifications she'd received. ****

“Y’know...you could come with me?” Bill suggested, tentatively. “I know you didn’t like the idea before, but…” ****

Yaz shook her head. ****

“Nah, it’s ok. Pretty tired after work, to be honest.”

“You’d be surprised, you know. Football is great fun.” ****

Yaz hesitated just long enough for Bill to sense an opening. She had actually contemplated it but apprehension about playing after so long without going anywhere near a football was deterrent enough. ****

“Go on, Yaz. It’ll be great! You can spend your free time outside of work with me, too.” ****

Bill winked and Yaz deflated. She wasn’t sure if Bill was joking about the whole thing. In truth, Yaz had been tempted to join Bill’s football team but life had kept getting in the way. And by life, she really just meant work; she didn’t have much of a life outside it, that much was becoming rapidly apparent judging by the lack of messages on her phone. It was becoming clear that she needed a life away from home and from work, and she really had enjoyed playing football at school. Apparently she’d had a knack for it. ****

“Nah,” she blustered, conflicted. “You’ll be sick of the sight of me.” ****

“What? No way, Yaz. I was just joking,” Bill replied, realising she’d blown her opportunity. “Really. It’d be so much fun if you came!” ****

Yaz shook her head, knowing it was easier and safer to say no. ****

“It’s ok. Some other time, maybe? Score one for me, yeah?” ****

“I would if I wasn’t stuck in defence,” Bill grumbled good-naturedly, nudging Yaz with her shoulder as they headed out. “One of these days I’ll convince you.” ****

“We’ll see about that.”

* * *

"Is that you, Yaz?"

Yaz wrinkled her nose at the smell of her dad's cooking and closed the front door with a click. Much like her mum doing her laundry, another benefit of living at home was that her dad often had dinner ready for her when she got back from work. Although his culinary skills often left a lot to be desired and Yaz got little to no input in what she actually ate, she supposed at least she didn't have to cook after a long day at work. 

Still, it would be nice to go home to a quiet flat and cook up a storm. Make a mess of her own creation and enjoy the freedom. Maybe even cook for someone else. 

Yaz pushed the thought away. It really didn't help to think like that.

"Yeah, it's me. Just gonna shower and I'll be right out," Yaz said, poking her head through the door. Really she could have done with half an hour to decompress but apparently she was last home; Sonya was already at the table, playing on her phone, and her mum was folding laundry.

"Hi, love," Najia smiled, and Yaz softened, hanging back. She couldn't not speak to her mum.

"Hi mum. Good day?"

"Oh, the usual. Grumpy customers complaining," Najia sighed.

Yaz mused that her own job wasn't so different.

"Are you still in one piece?" Najia asked, giving Yaz a once-over. She'd been concerned about her safety ever since Yaz had come home with a black eye. 

"Intact," Yaz confirmed. "Just in need of some clean clothes."

"I left a pile in your room," Najia said, turning back to her task, and Yaz took her cue to leave. She retreated to her room, wondering if she'd feel the same about her career when she was her mum's age. 

Maybe all jobs were the same, at the end of the day. 

Yaz stripped off her uniform, wondering how long she'd feel like this about her career choice. With any luck, she'd pass probation in the next sixth months and she'd be on her way. Yaz knew she'd pass it, though - she was good at her job and luck wasn't going to hold her back. Probation just seemed like an endless hoop to jump through when she knew, in her heart, that she was cut out for being in the police. This was a temporary blip, surely? Yaz tried not to think too much about how the following years would be spent painstakingly navigating her way up the ladder. Patience was key but it was in short supply at the moment. 

She had known going in that it would take 2 years to pass probation but she hadn't thought about the ramifications of living at home for that long, or how locked in she'd feel without being able to move forward, in any sense of the word. It was claustrophobic and frustrating, to say the least, not helped by work politics that she was still trying to get a grasp of. Yaz had promised herself that as soon as her probation was over, she'd at least find her own place as a reward. For now, though, she had to accept that until her job was secure, she had to rely on the support of her family for just a little longer. Especially since they were so invested in her success. Yaz could still remember the look on her mum's face that first day on the job. She'd been so proud and Yaz knew that she had to prove herself, make it all worthwhile.

An impatient knock on her bedroom door startled her.

"Dinner's ready," Sonya called out, and Yaz realised she'd been daydreaming. She looked at her watch with dismay, realising that her much savoured few minutes of peace and quiet had evaporated while she’d been lost in thought.

"Coming," she sighed. It wasn't like she had much of a choice. 


	2. Persuasion

The car door opened with a click, jolting Yaz from her daydream and admitting her partner into the quiet solitude of the car, followed by a light summer breeze. It was early in the morning but it was still warm and Yaz made the most of it, knowing that autumn was just around the corner. The leaves had started to change colour and the nights would be closing in soon, which was never good for her mood. 

“Oof. Blimey.” 

Bill groaned as she slid into the passenger seat. She held a takeaway tray with two coffees precariously in one hand and Yaz gratefully relieved her of it, eager to stop Bill dropping them before she could get her much-needed caffeine boost. Bill also seemed to be moving much more stiffly than usual, and Yaz didn’t want her to spill hot drinks all over herself.

“You ok?” Yaz asked with concern, seeing Bill wince as she shut the door with a thunk and settled in the passenger seat with a heavy sigh. This was how they did things when they were on shift in a vehicle: one of them drove and the other got coffee. Today, it was Yaz’s turn to drive. In reality, she drove most of the time because Bill’s driving technique left a lot to be desired and because Yaz liked to be behind the wheel. It gave her a sense of control, and her knowledge of the Sheffield streets was a lot more reliable than Bill’s. 

“Yeah,” Bill sighed, pulling her seatbelt across and clipping it in. “Just a bad tackle. Landed flat on my arse. Girls can play rough.”

“You’re not kidding. That was nearly two days ago,” Yaz pointed out, turning the key and starting the engine. They’d only just gone on shift and faced a morning on patrol, cruising the streets of Sheffield and dealing with any call-outs that came in and were deemed appropriate for constables of their rank. Which were mainly parking disputes, but occasionally a fight or, recently, an instance of domestic abuse. Although they’d found the latter harder to deal with, Yaz mused that it was a sign they were on their way to passing probation. Slowly, but steadily, they were reaching the light at the end of the tunnel.

“I think I have bruises on my bruises,” Bill complained, fiddling with the radio and letting the car fill with the quiet hum of chatter. “How was your day off?”

It didn’t take Yaz long to recall how she’d spent it. Asleep, then seeing her GP for a new prescription - hopefully, the new tablets she’d been prescribed would make her feel like more of a human than the last ones - and then watching a film with her sister. Hardly thrilling, but it had been all she’d felt up to doing. 

“Oh, you know. Life admin. The usual.” Yaz fixed her eyes on the road, hoping not to be drawn into more conversation about her life or lack thereof.

But Bill was used to her non-answers and thankfully she didn’t take them personally. Every now and again, on rare occasions, Yaz would open up to her but their friendship was based on Bill over-sharing and Yaz being a good listener. It meant they worked well together because they balanced each other out, and Yaz was grateful that Bill didn’t push, or judge. It seemed she lived a dramatic enough life for the both of them and Yaz was content to live vicariously through it. 

“I wish I’d done that, you know. We ended up having a team social down the pub last night. Talk about messy, I lost count of the empty glasses on our table by the end. The bar staff were too scared to come near us, I think. Ten rowdy women and one token bloke causing chaos. Oh, god,” Bill groaned, literally putting her head in her hands. “I’m pretty sure I bought us a round of shots. This is all my fault.”

Yaz couldn’t help but laugh at her self-induced misery. 

“Yep, sounds like it.”

Bill groaned and Yaz softened her tone. She wasn’t without sympathy, but she’d never been hungover and couldn’t imagine how it felt. “This is one of the times I’m glad I don’t drink.”

“Oh, Yaz. You’re so wise. Please, teach me your ways. I really think I should take a leaf out of your book.” Bill uncovered her face to reveal a cheeky grin that Yaz could see out of the corner of her eye. Her attention was fixed on the road but Bill was an entertaining passenger so she had to take extra care not to get distracted.

A chime rang out and Bill fidgeted awkwardly in her pocket for her phone. Yaz tutted. They were meant to leave personal effects in their lockers while on duty, never mind in their pockets. 

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Slipped my mind.” That didn’t stop Bill from reading the notification and laughing loudly and for long enough that Yaz couldn’t help but glance over.

“What is it?” Her interest was piqued. Bill was normally of a good humour but something had clearly tickled her and Yaz was intrigued as to what was so funny.

“Apparently we managed to get our coach so wrecked that he just woke up in the bus station. He was so conked out that some old lady thought he was dead and nearly called the police. I wish we’d been called to respond to that. I’d never let him live it down.”

Yaz was quiet as Bill fired off a reply, then another. She sighed softly, wishing she had a social life like Bill’s. Perhaps without the mild mayhem.

“Sorry, Yaz,” Bill apologised, apparently taking Yaz’s sigh as one of frustration. “Group chats. They’re a nightmare to keep on top of sometimes, aren’t they?”

Yaz nodded her head, despite knowing nothing of the sort. She felt a pang, wondering if she was letting the best part of her life pass her by. And not for the first time. 

A slightly awkward silence fell, then, and Yaz felt the urge to fill it. 

“You really like it, don’t you? Playing with that team?”

Bill’s face lit up.

“Best thing I’ve done in Sheffield. You know, once I moved away from London I really needed a hobby. Make new friends in a strange place. Sheffield is still strange, don’t get me wrong, but those girls...they make it better. As do you, you know, Yaz.”

Yaz felt her heart swell at the unexpected compliment. She didn't get them often.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” she replied after a beat, unsure what else to say. Bill was one of her closest friends - one of her only friends, really - but she wasn’t going to come out and say it. All that would do was just show how lonely she actually was.

“In that case, let me carry on,” Bill grinned, shifting slightly so she could face Yaz better. 

“I’ve seen how stubborn you are,” she continued, and Yaz laughed.

“That’s not a compliment, Bill.”

“Let me finish, Yaz! As I was saying: you’re...determined. You’re fit. You know, athletic. There, is that better?”

Yaz nodded briefly, still smiling. 

“And look how good you are at tackling people - just think about that thief you caught last week!”

At the mention of tackling, Yaz had a sneaking suspicion about where this was going and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Bill was relentless. 

“That was pretty satisfying,” Yaz admitted. She’d probably gone a bit overboard by tackling the perp to the ground but it had been the most effective way of getting him to stop. 

“And honestly? We’re in need of a few players,” Bill continued. “But really, Yaz. You’d be a great fit. The girls are a lot of fun - and it doesn’t hurt that some of them are really hot.”

Yaz felt her own face grow warm at the idea. She knew Bill was gay, but she’d kept quiet about her own inclinations. She nodded mutely, letting Bill carry on convincing her. Deep down she knew she’d end up agreeing; when Bill set her mind on something, it was very hard to turn her down, and Yaz was intrigued to meet this team that made Bill so happy. 

“Plus a bit of fresh air and exercise never hurts. You can make some new friends, although I’d imagine I’ll never be replaced as your bestie.”

Yaz sighed, pulling the car over to parallel park. She hoped the task would buy her some time to respond. But the more Bill said, the more she felt her resolve start to crumble away. What Bill was describing could fill the gap she’d started to feel more and more in her life. 

“And last but not least: you can vent some stress. Which is good because I don't know about you, but work is killing me, man.”

Yaz laughed at that, successfully pulling the car in flush with the kerb. Sure, she could park a car better than Bill could, but was she as satisfied with her work-life balance as Bill was? Somehow, she doubted it.

“What do you say? You could always just come for a laugh, have a kick about? You can meet everyone. See if you like it. There’s no pressure.” 

Bill really was on a roll and with the car safely parked, Yaz finally turned to look at her, unable to resist the look of excitement on her partner’s face. 

“Okay, okay!” she relented, holding her hands up. “You win, Bill. I’ll give it a go.”

“Yeah? Amazing! Our shifts should be easing up just in time for the start of the league, you know. That’ll make life easier.”

Yaz’s face fell slightly at the mention of the word. It already sounded like more of a commitment than she’d realised.

“League?”

“Yeah, you know. Just a bit of friendly competition between teams. We play matches against each other until one team wins. It’s a bit of a laugh, really. And if we have enough players, we don’t have to play in every single game. You can sit on the bench.”

“I hope so, Bill,” Yaz warned. “If I find out you’ve signed all my free time away for this, you’ll be buying the coffees for the foreseeable future.”

“I can live with that.” Bill’s confidence was persuasive, and Yaz couldn’t help but be swept up by her obvious enthusiasm. That, and the caffeine had started to kick in, giving her a pleasant buzz. She felt alive and alert and excited about something for the first time in a long time. 

“The things I do for you,” she sighed affectionately, turning off the engine and unbuckling her seatbelt. “Come on. We have to work hard before we can play hard.”

Bill beamed. 

“That’s my girl.”


	3. First practice

Yaz took a breath and checked her watch for the fourth time in 20 minutes. Her car windows had started to steam up and even though Yaz couldn't see the faces of the people passing by her window, she knew they were probably trying to peer in. Yaz was always punctual, which was force of habit given her job, but nerves had meant she’d arrived at the pitches half an hour early. 

_This is ridiculous_ , she scolded herself. When Yaz thought back to her first day on the job, she'd been so confident and assured. Now she was something of a nervous wreck when it came to social situations and she had no idea what had changed. Whatever had been responsible had plotted an insidious course through her psyche, wearing down her hard-earned fortitude to leave her feeling hollow and, to her immense frustration, weak. That's how it felt, no matter what her therapist told her. 

Yaz sighed and opened the door swiftly, physically pushing herself outwards. 

It was a gloriously sunny morning and she had to shield her eyes with a hand to figure out where to go. A couple of women in shorts and t-shirts were wandering around the side of a nearby building and Yaz opted to head towards them, holding her head high. It was all a matter of attitude, she reasoned. That approach had managed to get her this far.

She knew she'd gone in the right direction when the shrill sound of a whistle cut through the background noise of shouting, chatter, and the occasional thwack of a football being kicked. Yaz drew to a halt by the side of the field, looking for the familiar face of Bill. There had to be more than one team practicing, she realised; it dawned on her that the field was being shared by at least two teams, and she was currently watching one that didn’t contain her partner. 

It did, however, contain a very leggy blonde player, whose appearance drew Yaz’s attention straight away. Her hair was tied up in a scruffy ponytail, her shorts were grass-stained and muddy, and her back was to Yaz, but something about the way she held herself was eye-catching. She was speaking with an older man, hands on her hips in a way that was so casually confident that Yaz would put money on her being the team captain. Her team mates were apparently preoccupied with running drills, dribbling footballs through cones. 

“Yaz!”

The familiar sound of Bill’s voice cut across the field and the blonde woman apparently heard it because she turned and looked directly at Bill, then turned to look at Yaz once she saw who Bill was shouting for. Her face gave nothing away but Yaz found herself frozen to the spot, embarrassed that she’d been caught watching. 

Yaz suddenly broke eye contact, turning and walking to meet Bill midway before she could embarrass herself further. 

“You made it!” Bill grinned, apparently unaware of their observer, and pulled Yaz into a warm hug. That was new. They didn’t normally hug. Then again, they rarely saw each other outside of work.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I couldn’t see you for ages! I didn’t realise other teams practiced here.” Yaz could feel the warmth in her face start to recede as she relaxed in Bill’s company.

But Bill’s grin faded slightly and her eyes glanced over Yaz’s shoulder, to where she assumed the blonde woman was still lingering.

“Yeah,” she muttered. “Unfortunately, they do.”

Although Bill’s change in tone was surprising, Yaz resisted the urge to turn around. She’d stared enough already and was wary of making a bad impression. 

“Do you know that team?”

Bill nodded curtly. 

“I do. They’re fine, really, just…”

Before she could finish the sentence, a whistle cut cleanly across their conversation. 

“Bill! Come on, man. We’ve got to get going.”

Bill sighed loudly and Yaz squinted to see who had shouted over at them. She was almost certain she recognised him but the baseball cap he was wearing hid his face just enough that she couldn’t quite tell why.

“Alright, alright, we’re coming!” Bill called back, and Yaz winced at the volume of her voice. She didn’t want to draw any more attention to herself but Bill was oblivious, utterly at ease in this strange environment. 

“Ryan still hasn’t forgiven me for that hangover,” Bill winked conspiratorially, leading Yaz to join a small huddle of women who were gathered at the other end of the field. Yaz was certain she could feel eyes on the back of her head but she shrugged it off as paranoia. It was always going to be strange entering such an unfamiliar environment and feeling out of place was to be expected.

As she and Bill approached the group, Yaz steeled herself. She eyed her potential team-mates up, knowing they were no doubt doing the same, and wondered if she’d made an error in choosing to practice in tracksuit bottoms when everyone else was wearing shorts. They looked like a mixed group of different ages and heights - including one particularly striking red-haired woman who looked to be at least 6 feet tall - and Yaz wondered how she’d fit in. 

_Only one way to find out._

“Everyone, this is my mate, Yaz. Yaz, this is...well, everyone. I’ll let them introduce themselves but guys, best behaviour, please! I have to work with Yaz, too, you know. Don’t embarrass me.”

Yaz smiled nervously at the assembled group and let their answering smiles soothe her nerves. As they all supplied their names, Yaz knew she’d forget them all within seconds, but she nodded anyway, startled to be surrounded by so many new faces who were all scrutinising her like the newbie she was. They hadn’t even played yet and Yaz started to worry if she was going to make a fool out of herself. It had been years since she’d even touched a football. Hopefully it was just like learning to ride a bike.

The man in the baseball cap suddenly spoke up. 

“Yaz? As in Yasmin Khan?” he frowned, and Yaz suddenly knew where she’d seen him before. “Redlands Primary?”

“Yeah..Ryan, right? Ryan Sinclair?”

“That’ll be me,” he grinned, and Yaz felt her nerves abate. It helped that she knew the coach. “You wanted to try out for the team? I’m the coach, believe it or not. And if I remember right, you were pretty awesome at footie back in the day. Used to kick my arse during lunch.”

Yaz ducked her head modestly as the other women started to throw insults at Ryan, who was clearly used to the barbs and banter and who groaned good-naturedly at his own ill-considered honesty.

“Alright, that’s the last time I admit to anything,” he laughed. “Enough talking, we need to warm up! Our rivals have already been going for the past 15 minutes. You girls need to get cracking.”

He nodded at the team behind them and Yaz finally did turn, just in time to see the blonde woman leg it across the pitch and tackle someone so deftly that Yaz knew she’d have missed it if she’d as much as blinked. Moments later she was neatly lining the ball up and scoring like it was second nature. 

“Blimey,” she murmured, and Bill scoffed quietly beside her. 

“Yeah,” she sighed. “That’ll be Jules. You’ll meet her before long.”

The cogs in Yaz’s mind started to turn. 

“Jules? Why do I know that name?” she asked, following Bill to the side of the pitch to dump her bag and hoodie. The others started a gentle jog around their half of the field and Yaz and Bill followed suit.

“You know that name because that girl broke my heart,” Bill grimaced lightly, eyes flicking over to watch as Jules lifted one of her team members up in the air as if she weighed nothing. Yaz’s eyes widened at the obvious display of strength. The woman was a lanky beanpole but she was clearly stronger than she looked. Finally, Bill’s words registered.

“Oh my god. This is _the_ ex, isn’t it?” Yaz gasped. Bill resolutely faced forward as they started to jog, joining the end of the line of players working their way around the boundary of the field. With mounting dread, Yaz realised they would be running around the whole thing - which meant running directly past the other team. She’d never felt so self-conscious about her running technique before. Something about Jules made her feel instantly inferior.

“Yeah,” Bill bit out, her mood clearly soured. It had only been a few months ago and Yaz remembered the breakup vividly. Bill had turned up for work completely out of sorts and had been so utterly miserable and borderline truculent that their supervisor had actually sent her home. After her shift had finished, Yaz had surprised Bill with a visit at home - her first visit to Bill’s flat - armed with ice cream and a terrible DVD from her sister’s collection that had cheered Bill up to no end. She hadn’t talked much about the break-up itself but it was clear it was still a sore point even now. 

Never having been in a serious relationship, Yaz had no idea how that even felt. But she’d lived vicariously through Bill’s to know that it had been painful.

Both of them chatted idly as they made their way around the pitch, passing the other team just in time for raucous laughter to ring out. Yaz glanced sideways to see the woman’s - _Jules’s_ \- face break out in a lop-sided grin as she high-fived one of her team members. The sun filtered through her hair, making it look golden as it caught the strands, and she strode across the grass with such confidence that Yaz found herself shrinking back. She felt unfit, unskilled, and out of place, and she picked up the pace in an attempt to get away.

Once they were safely out of earshot, Yaz braved the subject. 

“Do you guys talk at all?”

Bill shook her head with a laugh. 

“No chance. She’s not exactly emotionally available. The only time we even attempt to communicate is through football.” 

Bill’s mouth twisted downwards and Yaz immediately resolved to change the topic. As upbeat and goofy as Jules seemed, it was clear she had broken Bill’s heart, and Yaz could feel herself harden towards her. It was subtle and out of her control, but seeing Bill so downhearted was not pleasant to witness.

“Hey, am I meant to be this knackered already?” Yaz asked, breathing hard to emphasise her point. “You didn’t mention the warm-up would be this tiring.”

“Yasmin Khan, stop pulling my leg,” Bill laughed breathlessly. “You’re fitter than me so don’t even try to tell me you’re not.”

“We’ll see about that,” Yaz replied, feeling the tension ease with every metre they moved away from the other end of the field. Ryan corralled them once they finished, setting them up with drills to practice their dribbling, and Yaz found herself so engrossed in the task that she almost forgot about the other team. Almost.

The remaining hour flew by. Yaz couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun with a group of strangers. She started to get a handle on their names, which was made infinitely easier by the fact that they constantly called out to one another as they trained. When Ryan drew the session to a close, Yaz was surprised that the time had gone so fast. She turned to Amy, the tall redhead who had turned out to be the team goalie. _Of course she is_ , Yaz mused. She was the tallest player by far. 

“Do we not get to play a game?”

“Play a game? Nah, this was just a refresher. We had a break over the peak of the summer. Needed to blow out some cobwebs.”

They were walking back to the changing rooms, trailing at the back of the group. 

“That, and we didn’t want to throw you in at the deep end.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah! Bill said you were a bit nervous about joining. We thought it might be a bit off-putting if we put you into a game with this lot on your first go. They can be pretty fierce.”

Yaz was both touched and relieved. 

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Course we did! Even if she wasn't the captain, Bill is the heart and soul of this team. But don’t tell her I said that,” Amy winked, linking her arm through Yaz’s like it was the most natural thing to do, given the circumstances. 

The contact was innocent but the gesture was affecting and Yaz delighted in the simple human contact. She felt like she’d been welcomed into the team with open arms and she wondered why she’d been so apprehensive about joining in the first place. As she heard chatter drift out from the changing room, she knew she’d made the right decision. 

The moment she and Amy entered the room, Bill practically jumped them. She was already half-dressed and Yaz didn’t know where to look - everywhere she turned she was confronted by half-naked women. 

“Well?”

“Hmm. I dunno, I think I need to give it some thought.” Yaz pretended to ponder but she already knew she was going to join the team. The moment that Bill’s face started to fall she relented and cracked out a smile that was the most genuine thing she’d felt in weeks.

“Of course I’m in,” she grinned, watching as Bill’s expression shifted back to pure happiness. 

“Yes! Get in!”

Bill’s cheer was echoed by the other women and Yaz didn’t quite know where to look. She felt Amy give her a reassuring squeeze where their arms were still linked. 

“I hope you know what you’re in for, by the way,” Amy murmured just loud enough to be heard over the racket. “We play hard but some other teams...oof. Let’s just say, they play harder.”

Before Yaz could ask what Amy meant she was left to her own devices, surrounded by her new teammates who were all excitedly expressing their enthusiasm at her joining the team. And while Amy’s words had made Yaz wonder what on earth she’d let herself in for, for now she was just relieved that the gamble had paid off. She’d put herself out there and found some new friends. 

The smile stayed on her face for the entire drive home. 


	4. An encounter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really struggled with this tbh. Proper self-doubt mode, not helped by a complete dickhead on cc, which I've now deleted so if you want to send me prompts you can do so anonymously on tumblr :)  
> Anyway.  
> Life is short and right now it's weird. I thought this might be a good distraction so although I'm not that happy with it, I'm posting it anyway.  
> The only way out is through, and I hope you are all persevering with whatever is getting you down - I won't mention the c word on here but I know it's making life a bit strange for a lot of people, so I'll try and update this again in a few days and see if that can provide a distraction! even if only a brief one. <3  
> Thank you to the lovely, kind, patient people who've helped me through a proper rough patch. That includes everyone reading this fic. I keep going with this because of people like you, so thank you.

“Yaz! Over here!”

Yaz looked up, realising she’d been staring too intently at her feet and not enough at where she was going. Bill was gesturing at her avidly and Yaz quickly scanned her surroundings, realising why she was waving her arms so dramatically. Someone was coming for her.

They’d split the team in two to play a five-a-side game and Yaz had found herself in defence with Bill. Although she wanted to play midfield, she had to admit that Ryan had a point - she and Bill made a good team. They normally did at work, so the logic seemed sound; but as Yaz was quickly realising, football was a bit different to police work. 

For a start, things moved a lot more rapidly. She’d already fumbled a few tackles because the midfielder on the other side - Rose - was deceptively quick, but Yaz had started to learn her style and had finally managed to intercept the ball. The only problem was that her success in doing so had been so unexpected that she had little idea what to actually do with the ball once it was in her possession. When she’d played at school, the games had been far more scrappy, and she was still trying to learn her place in the team. She didn’t want to step on any toes.

All she knew was that she needed to try and get it away from Ryan, who had stepped in as their goalie. She could hear him egging her on but Bill’s voice cut across the shouts of her team mates and Yaz honed in on it, looking up field to where she was pointing, and belting the ball as precisely as she could. 

She cleared it just in time, hearing Rose jog up beside her seconds later and compliment her aim. 

“Thanks,” Yaz huffed, finally feeling like she’d done something right. Bill winked at her across the pitch as Yaz caught her breath and she grinned back, looking on just in time to see Clara score a goal. Clara might have been their shortest player but she was also the team’s star striker and her movements were so hard to predict that any goalie would have found her formidable. Amy groaned in frustration as the ball slipped through and Yaz let out a cheer, feeling like she’d at least contributed to the goal. And despite her earlier errors in defence, their team was still leading by two points. It felt good. 

Yaz felt her grin slacken when she saw that someone was watching them. 

Jules was standing at the side, arms folded as she scrutinised their practice session. Yaz wondered how long she’d been there.

Apparently, Yaz wasn’t the only one to notice her presence. 

“Picking up some tips?” Ryan hollered from goal. 

“From you, Sinclair? I don’t think so,” Jules shouted back, rolling her eyes. Her own team had apparently just finished practice because after a few moments they joined her at the sidelines. 

“I reckon you could learn something from us though,” she continued, raising an eyebrow in challenge, and Yaz felt her stomach do a flip flop. She really didn’t want to come up against a player like Jules this early on, even if it was only meant to be a friendly match. 

She didn’t dare turn to see Ryan’s reaction but she could hear a low whistle as he let the barb sink in. 

“Don’t worry,” Bill said, and Yaz was startled to see she’d crossed to join her. “We’ll kick their arses.”

Then she turned and spoke directly at Jules.

“Give it your best shot,” she shouted, without fear. “I’m pretty sure you won’t be getting past my defences again.”

There was a round of cat calls and Yaz watched the almost imperceptible flinch alter Jules’s face before that effervescent smile was back in place. 

“Are you sure about this?” Yaz muttered, sensing Bill’s irritation. “We’ll be playing them before long, anyway.”

“Better to get it over and done with,” Bill sighed heavily. “Like ripping off a plaster that should have been torn off a long time ago.” 

She turned and cupped her hands to her mouth. 

“Come on, ladies! Get it together.”

Yaz tried to ignore the butterflies in her stomach as their team regrouped, barely listening as Bill laid out a plan of action. She and Bill were to be in defence again, which meant they’d be coming up against Jules. They also had the added presence of Martha, now that they were back to a full-sized team. It helped to know there were other defenders on hand, but Yaz couldn’t quite shake her apprehension. 

“But...I’m still new, I’m no good. What if she gets past me?”

“Yaz!” Bill chided. “You’re smashing it for only your second practice.” The others murmured their assent and Yaz let the reassurance wash over her and let it calm her nerves. She was only human, after all.

“Don’t worry,” Clara smiled, trying to reassure Yaz. “I’ll try and make sure she doesn’t get hold of that ball to begin with.”

“And me,” said Rose. “She’ll wish she’d never messed with us.” 

She scowled as she looked over at the other team, who were huddled nearby. Yaz made a mental note never to piss Rose off.

“Naww. Guys. I’m touched,” Bill said, hand on her heart. “Just make sure you communicate and when she gets the ball, cos let’s face it, she will eventually, we’ll just need to get it off her nice and quick.”

The nerves roared back to life and Yaz could feel herself starting to breathe faster. _No pressure, then._

“I’ve got you, Yaz. We’ve got each other. Strongest defence in the league,” Bill winked, and then they were separating, jogging to their respective ends of the pitch almost automatically. They were a well-oiled machine, Yaz realised, despite being amateurs; they took things just as seriously as the other team and Yaz took comfort in that. 

Amy jogged past her as she made her way to goal, calling something to Bill that Yaz didn’t quite catch, and then the other team were in position and Ryan was blowing the whistle, and they were off before Yaz could mentally prepare herself for what was to come.

The shift was obvious. The mood changed completely, becoming entirely more serious despite the apparently friendly nature of the game. 

The reason why also became clear almost instantly. Jules was lethal when she had the ball. 

Yaz watched, on edge, waiting for her to make her way down to Yaz’s end of the field. Thankfully, Clara and Rose were true to their word, intercepting her as much as they could, and Yaz started to relax when she realised Bill might have a point - the other team’s defence was not as organised as their own. 

Then Jules sprung into action, sliding between players and into spaces that Yaz could barely see the dimensions of. She wasn’t a graceful runner, her arms flailing as she nipped through, but she was also very aware of her environment because she managed to take possession without even so much as touching another player. It was magical to watch. And intimidating, because then Jules was running towards her. Straight for Yaz’s side. 

She could hear her teammates shouting suggestions and she knew Bill and Martha were there to help, but Jules seemed to be on a mission. She was looking between Yaz and the goal, mentally calculating her route. Yaz was frozen to the spot until she heard Bill shout her name in a tone so urgent that it jolted her into action. 

_Shit._

She started to move forward, wondering if she could at least slow Jules down, but her attempt seemed feeble the moment Jules brushed past her. She was so close that they practically touched and Yaz felt a breeze with the motion, could even hear Jules’s breathing as she niftily dribbled the ball and manoeuvred around Yaz like she was nothing but a minor obstacle, never mind an opposing player. 

Yaz unfroze as she passed, belatedly chasing her, but it was too little, too late. She caught up just in time for Jules to pause, correct her aim, and kick the ball straight into the top left corner of the goal. 

A loud groan went up from her team, drowned out by raucous cheers from Jule’s team. Yaz watched as Jules caught her breath, hands on her hips in that now trademark stance that seemed almost arrogant, Yaz thought. 

Jules turned to look at her after a moment. 

“You snooze, you lose,” she breathed. “No hard feelings.”

Yaz tutted, mortified that she’d frozen and irritated that Jules had shown her up so easily. It wasn’t fair. She knew Yaz was new, surely...and she’d made a beeline for her, finding the team’s weak spot like a homing missile. Yaz tried not to let that hurt but it did. It was almost like Jules had deliberately shown her up and not only that, Yaz felt like she’d let her team down by freezing so badly.

“Oi, lay off it,” Bill shouted, frowning as she watched them interact. “You too scared to come for me?”

Jules broke eye contact, giving Bill the briefest of glances. 

“You don’t scare me, Bill.”

“I should.”

Jules shook her head, scoffing, and Yaz wondered if she might have to put herself between them when she saw Bill start to walk over. Thankfully, Ryan sensed that tension was brewing and did the honours. 

“Play nice, ladies,” he cautioned. “Or this friendly is over.”

“It was over before it even began,” someone hollered from the other end of the pitch, and Yaz squinted to see who had shouted. A redheaded woman in the other team. Donna, she was called. She had a bit of a mouth on her.

Yaz ignored the jeers and laughter, knowing deep down that they weren’t directed at her but feeling them nonetheless. 

“Alright, I’m calling it,” Ryan muttered, putting the whistle to his lips. “Time!”

Jules shrugged and walked back to her half of the pitch, but not before brushing past Yaz once more. 

“I know you can give me a run for my money. Next time, eh?”

Yaz found herself momentarily tongue tied. There was a challenge in Jules’s eyes but Yaz was so frustrated that all she could feel was a jibe. She needed to stand up for herself, she realised. Her teammates could only do so much.

“And all the times after,” she blurted, desperate to say something. Anything. The adrenaline was well and truly coursing through her veins now and when Jules’s eyes widened in surprise, Yaz wondered if she’d gone too far.

But then she smirked, her eyes crinkling.

“I knew you had it in you,” she said, and Yaz resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She wondered what Bill had ever seen in this woman. 

* * *

Afterwards, Yaz had apologised to the other women but they’d refused to even entertain an apology. 

“Trial by fire, innit,” Rose said, thoughtfully. “She was gunning for you.”

“She was, mate. Sorry,” Bill said, sighing as she tugged on a clean t-shirt. They were in the changing rooms and Yaz was still in her kit, uncomfortable changing around the others. She preferred to do it at home, but she also didn’t want to miss out on the chatter after practice. 

“But why? What have I done to her?”

“Honestly, I have no idea. But just wait, Yaz. After a few more sessions we’ll make sure you’re ready to take her.”

Yaz ducked her head. 

“She’s so good, though.”

“Ha," Bill barked. "Only because she doesn’t have a life outside of work, other than football,” Bill groused, hefting her bag onto her shoulder. “Come on. Forget about that for now. We’ve got something for you.”

Bill gestured to Amy, who approached bearing a bundle in her hands. 

“Go on,” she said, holding it out to Yaz, who picked up the material in confusion and let it unfold.

A kit. Yaz forgot her troubles for a moment as she realised she was now an official member of the team. She held up the shirt to the room, and was certain she’d never been so delighted with a piece of clothing in her life. Except perhaps her police uniform, the first time she’d got it.

“No way,” she gasped. 

“Yes way,” Bill replied. “That’s it, though. You’re stuck with us now.”

“More like you’re stuck with me,” Yaz beamed, and she let herself be swept up into a group hug that almost made her forget what was bothering her.

Almost.


	5. Nerves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO I wasn't going to post this until I'd written the next chapter but life keeps throwing me curveballs and I am throwing caution to the wind because fuck it. Enjoy! I hope the next one will be up by the end of the weekend :)

_Two weeks later_

She was late. Yaz quickly glanced at the clock on the wall of the locker room, hurriedly shoving her exercise gear into her gym bag and wondering where and when she was going to be able to get changed. But getting changed was the least of her worries if she couldn’t even get to practice on time and she sighed frustratedly as her locker door refused to shut. A spare pair of socks were jamming the hinge and she flung them deeper inside, her other hand already reaching for her phone so that she could text Bill and apologise for being late. 

Their first game of the league was in the morning and, to Yaz’s mounting chagrin, it was against Jules’s team. When they’d first been drawn, Yaz had reassured herself that she had plenty of time to practice in the interim. A fortnight would be more than long enough for her to gel with the team and get up to speed. For the most part, the former had been a success. She’d started to get to know the team better, aided in part by socials that were as messy as Bill had alluded to. As the resident non-drinker of the team, Yaz became a designated driver for quite a few of the girls, which made her particularly popular. 

Regarding her progress, however, Yaz felt like that was far more mixed. She knew she could play, but at the back of her mind was her last interaction with Jules. Knowing that they’d meet again in such a short amount of time was enough to send her into a spiral of doubt. That, and work had made her late for a few practice sessions, which didn’t help her stress levels. Especially when her boss was pushing for her to take on more and more shifts. 

Bill had refused to be baited.

“We’re going to pass probation, anyway. They just want to get some extra labour out of us. You can have a life outside of work and they can’t take that away from you, so don’t let them! Stick it to the man."

Bill’s words echoed in Yaz’s mind as she headed for her car, hoping that the others would already be warming up so that she could get changed in peace. She knew Bill was right but she also knew she wanted her career to get off to the best start possible. Luckily, football practice was a great way to burn off stress and it allowed Yaz to pursue a hobby that was entirely unrelated to work and which got her out of the house. 

The stress was coming back with a vengeance, though, and it flared to life as Yaz got changed. The others were already on the pitch and heckled her as she came out, which she took on the chin because judging by their grins, they didn’t mean a word of it. 

“Ah, so she graces us with her presence after all,” Bill commented. “I thought Sunder was going to chain you to your desk.”

“Kinky,” Clara quipped, and Yaz nudged her with an elbow. 

“You abandoned me!” she retorted, feeling the nerves start to dissipate as the familiar banter reminded her that she was among friends. 

“Needed a pre-practice snack, didn’t I,” Bill replied, knowing full well that she’d thrown her under the bus and scuttled out of the door before Yaz had realised their superior was heading over. 

Next time, Yaz swore she’d be more on the ball. 

“If you’ve all finished catching up,” Ryan sighed, looking at his watch. “Get warmed up and we’ll do some drills. Yaz, Bill, Martha - we’re going to work on defence tonight. Clara, Rose - go as hard as you like. I want you to put them through their paces.”

It turned out to be their toughest practice yet, and Ryan really did push them hard. Even Bill had to request a break, worried that someone would sustain an injury given the number of tackles they were practicing. 

“Alright, alright,” Ryan conceded. “Just wanted to make sure you were mentally prepared for tomorrow.”

He grinned but Yaz gulped at the reminder. She couldn’t even imagine getting anywhere near Jules but after a couple of successful interceptions she felt her confidence growing, just slightly. 

“You did great, guys,” Ryan assured them, looking straight at Yaz. “Rock-solid defence. Nice one, Yaz.”

He held up a fist and she bumped it, feeling sheepish. Was her worry that obvious? The others seemed to be far less nervous about the whole thing but then, she supposed, they’d played in a league before. Even so, the mood was subdued as they traipsed from the field to the changing rooms. 

Yaz watched as Bill and Amy talked quietly between themselves, walking closely together. Although she knew she could join them, she hesitated, wondering if she’d be interrupting something. 

Yaz shook her head. That was strange. Bill would have told her if something was going on, she was certain.

“Alright, Yaz?” Martha asked, interrupting her thoughts. “You were great, you know. The other team is in for a shock when they come up against our defence.”

Yaz nodded in agreement, wondering if her lack of confidence was obvious. 

“I hope so,” she smiled, imagining what Jules’s face would look like if Yaz stole the ball from her. It was fun to consider. Despite her physical tiredness after practice, she felt a sudden wave of nervous energy that she knew was going to keep her awake that night. Her sleep was all over the shop as it was. 

“I don’t think I’m going to get much sleep tonight, though," she admitted, fidgeting with the hem of her top.

Martha inclined her head sympathetically.

“I know what you mean. And I know the perfect way to get that out of your system. Fancy burning off some steam? There’s a gym on the other side of the building. Just 15 minutes or so will do the trick. Normally works for me, anyway.”

“Sure,” Yaz agreed, figuring it was worth a try. She wasn't in a particular hurry to get home, anyway. 

They waved goodbye to the others as they split off from the group, agreeing to meet at nine the following morning so that they could warm up in advance of kick-off. But Bill didn’t see them leave; she seemed preoccupied since she was still talking with Amy, and that gave Yaz pause. Martha noticed her looking. 

“Oh yeah. They’re totally keeping something on the down-low,” Martha murmured when she realised who Yaz was staring at. 

“What?” The implication was obvious but Yaz was surprised that Bill had kept it quiet. She was normally so open about everything.

“Bill and Amy. Have you not noticed how close they are?”

“Bill's not mentioned anything.”

“I can't say I blame her. Ever since Jules, she doesn’t like to talk about her love life. It really messed up the team as well,” Martha sighed, leading Yaz into the gym and heading for a bench by the free weights. There were a few people inside but it was dinnertime on a Friday evening and most of the equipment was free. 

“Don’t worry, this won’t take long,” Martha said. “Just a few reps to get rid of that energy. I know what it’s like, you know. We all do.”

Yaz adjusted the weights on the bar bell and then laid flat as Martha stood at the head of the bench, ready to spot her. She lifted a bit for work and she knew just how much she needed.

“My first game, I was so nervous I threw up,” Martha admitted, and Yaz let out the air in her lungs in a rush as she pushed the weight up, straightening her arms. 

“No way.”

“Yeah. Worse nerves than before my third year exams.”

“Ouch. So it’s normal to feel like this?” Yaz asked, panting slightly. Martha hummed in agreement. After a few more reps, Yaz pushed the barbell up, guided by Martha to the rack. She could feel her arms singing with extra blood and she enjoyed the feeling, as well as the slight ache that came with it. After months of numbness it was a relief to feel something. Even if the emotions were a bit more turbulent than she'd like.

Yaz stretched out her arms. One more set and she’d swap. _Just enough exertion to get rid of the nerves._

“Anyway. If something is going on between those two, it’s probably better if we don’t know about it,” Martha resumed. “Relationships can really mess up a team.”

Yaz nodded, unsure what to say. She wanted Bill to be happy but she could see why dating a fellow teammate might make things complicated, and she was saddened by the thought that Bill had withheld something from her.

“What about dating someone in another team?” Yaz asked, reaching for the bar again and bracing her shoulders against the bench. Try as she might, Jules seemed to be on her mind more and more as they approached the big day.

“Honestly, it makes things even more complicated,” Martha said. “Jules and Bill used to clash on the pitch all the time, what with one of them being in attack and the other in defence. I think it’s partly why they broke up.”

“Oh,” Yaz grunted, feeling the strain in her arms after a couple of reps.

“Bill’s better off without her, anyway,” Martha mused. “Although I can see why she liked her.”

“Really?” Yaz exhaled, grimacing slightly. “She’s so arrogant. Cocky.”

“I think that’s all part of the act, you know,” Martha mused, reaching down to help Yaz rest the bar back on the rack. “Mind games.”

“Mind games?” Yaz panted, feeling a burn in her arms. Martha was right. She’d got rid of the excess energy and, despite the topic of conversation, was feeling more relaxed about the upcoming game. 

“I’ve seen people like her before, especially at the hospital. Stubborn, driven to succeed. Just a certain kind of personality, I think. A single-track mind."

Yaz pondered that for a moment. Martha had a point. Bill was different; more chilled out, and nowhere near as stubborn as Jules seemed to be. Yaz, on the other hand...she knew she wanted to succeed. She was driven, too. And she could be just as stubborn if she put her mind to something. 

The reminder bolstered her confidence. She'd gotten this far. She could go much, much further, and Jules certainly wasn't going to knock her off course. 

“Thanks, Martha,” she smiled, easing herself off the bench so that they could switch. “It helps to hear another perspective.”

They swapped places and while Martha settled herself, Yaz looked across the room just as someone new entered the gym. 

Her face started to burn when she realised who it was. 

Jules headed straight for a squat rack, apparently oblivious to their presence. She peeled off her hoodie, revealing a vest top that left very little to the imagination. Normally, their football kits were just baggy enough to hide what was underneath. Now, Yaz’s attention caught on a strange mark on one of Jules’s shoulders that looked like a scar of some kind, normally hidden from sight. She squinted, intrigued, forgetting where she was for a moment.

Martha was still chatting away, this time about the mid-season social. Yaz breathed a sigh of relief that she’d changed topics but it was unlikely that Jules would have heard them anyway; they were some distance apart, and she was wearing earphones while she squatted. Her thighs tensed under her shorts as she bent her legs, and Yaz realised they were far more muscular than they had first seemed.

The look on her face was one of sheer determination and focus. Yaz eyed the weights, impressed by how much she was lifting, and belatedly rejoined the conversation with Martha.

"Oh really?" she murmured, gaze still fixed across the room. Jules had started to break a sweat but she was still pushing, muscles tensing against the fabric of her shorts and top. Yaz could just about see the outline of her abs through the clingy material. If she looked hard enough. Which she was certainly trying not to.

Suddenly her mouth felt very dry. 

Then, like something out of her worst nightmare, Jules looked straight up at her, almost like she knew Yaz was watching. Yaz felt like a rabbit in the headlights.

Jules’s expression was hard to read but she did a double-take, clearly surprised to see Yaz in the gym. A smile emerged but it wasn’t one of the trademark cocky grins that Yaz had seen on the pitch. This one seemed more genuine. Yaz frowned and looked away, realising that she'd let Jules get well and truly under her skin. 

_Mind games._ That's what Martha had called it. She was probably trying to psych her out.

"Hand?" Martha gasped, and Yaz realised she'd abandoned any pretence of spotting the weights.

"Shit, sorry," she flapped, guiding her palms under the bar and bearing some of the weight. The bar settled with a clang and Yaz winced, sensing the other gym bunnies turning to check out the noise. She risked a glance up to see Jules drinking from a water bottle, her attention apparently elsewhere now that her set was finished. 

But as she and Martha headed out of the doors, she couldn’t help but feel like she was being watched. _Mind games._ That was all it was. And something that Yaz was more than equipped to deal with. The silver lining after the past few years was that as shitty as they'd been at the time, Yaz now knew what to do when her mind took her to places she didn't like. She was ready for anything Jules could throw at her.


	6. Bump

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Powering through this as best I can because it's keeping me sane and also because I want to post it before I lose my nerve 😂
> 
> Thank you to everyone who is reading this ❤️ there might be a bit longer between updates since I'm back at work this week, but hopefully not too long 🙂

“You sure you don’t want some toast?” Hakim held aloft a plate of charred bread and although it was probably the safest option available to her, Yaz shook her head. 

“Too nervous to eat,” she admitted, adjusting her socks once again. Her shin guards normally did a better job of keeping them up and she checked they were in her bag, rifling through the contents to ensure she had everything.

“I remember getting like that before cricket matches,” Hakim replied, abandoning the plate to reach for the fruit bowl. “At least take a banana or something. You’ll want it by half time.”

Yaz wondered if she’d even get her appetite by lunch but she took some fruit anyway, then headed for the door before she lost her nerve. To her surprise, her dad walked her out. It was something he used to do when she was a lot younger and still at school. They spoke about the weather on the way down and just having his company was soothing. It was only once they neared her car that Hakim spoke up about the game.

“Don’t worry, love! It’ll get easier after the first one.”

“Thanks, dad,” Yaz smiled, unlocking the doors and chucking her gear in the back seat. “I’ll see you after?”

Hakim nodded and then, to her surprise, pulled her into a hug before she got into the car. They rarely hugged and the movement was a little awkward at first, but then Yaz felt herself relax into it. 

“I’m proud of you, Yaz. Whatever you do, you’ll always make me proud. Me and your mum. Remember that.”

The surprising words and the sentiment behind them made Yaz tighten the hug. Although living with her family was stressful, the emotional support they provided was invaluable. She didn’t know where she’d be without them, sometimes.

“Thanks, dad. I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all you can do,” he smiled as they separated. “Give them hell.”

* * *

As she approached the pitch, Yaz was surprised to see far more cars there than usual and when she made her way over to the team, she realised why: there were spectators. 

“You didn’t mention that people came to watch this,” she hissed at Bill, horrified, as she felt the pressure pile on even more. The other team was warming up on the other side of the pitch and Yaz could make out Jules, lifting her knees to her chest as she ran down the side. In fact, the other team seemed to be taking things very seriously. Even Donna was quiet, stretching out her legs. 

Yaz hurriedly opened up her bag and slipped on her shin guards.

“I didn’t? My bad,” Bill acceded, scanning the sidelines. “No agents, though.”

“Agents?” Yaz felt like her soul had departed from her body. 

“Yeah, it’s not unheard of. But don’t worry, Yaz. They won’t steal you away from the police.”

Bill winked and Yaz let a nervous laugh escape. 

“I could kill you, sometimes.”

“But then you’d get stuck with Owen for a partner and we both know how that would end.”

Yaz had to admit Bill had a point. But at the back of her mind were Martha’s comments from the previous night, and the suspicion that Bill was keeping something secret from her. Yaz looked around for Amy, and found her watching them as she stretched. 

“Yeah,” Yaz murmured, distracted. “But at least he can drive.”

“Ouch,” Bill lamented. “You do know we’re on the same team, right?”

She started to gesture the others over for a pre-game huddle and Yaz let out a breath, trying to ignore the excited chatter. It was hard enough to concentrate as it was, never mind with the background noise, and she forced herself to pay attention. But even as she listened, her eyes wandered, taking in the crowd - mainly friends of the players, it seemed, judging by their age. Most of them were holding takeaway cups of coffee and looked slightly hungover, and none - to Yaz’s mind - looked like an agent. 

She saw Jules talking with her own team and resolved to listen more closely to Bill. She was a good captain, encouraging and supportive and clearly trying to add just the right amount of pressure to bring her team together. 

“Ready? We’ll regroup at half time.”

“Don’t forget to talk to each other,” Ryan said, zipping up his hoodie. He wished them luck and joined an older man at the side of the pitch, one Yaz had seen Jules talking to. 

“Who’s that man?” Yaz asked Martha as they made their way to their positions. 

“Oh, that’s Graham. He coaches the other team. He’s also Ryan’s granddad.”

“Really?” Yaz had never seen him before, but she’d met Ryan’s nan. “How's Grace?”

“Same as ever, she's still working as a nurse - that's how she met Graham, actually.”

"You're kidding?"

"The world works in mysterious ways. Ryan and Graham didn't see eye to eye at first, but coaching seems to bring them closer together. Bit of friendly competition probably helps.”

Yaz watched as the two men laughed together and was glad to see that Martha was right. 

“Seems like it’s working,” she smiled, shaking her legs out to dispel some final nerves. 

“Yaz? You’ve got this. Don’t worry,” Martha grinned, patting her on the shoulder before she left Yaz to her position. 

_I’ve got this._

Except no matter how mentally prepared Yaz thought she’d been, she wasn’t ready for the onslaught. She’d had an inkling during their friendly about how things might go down in an actual game but Jules really wasn’t messing around. She was faster than ever, arms and legs pumping fluidly as she moved around the pitch, spotting opportunities and exploiting them ruthlessly. 

It didn’t take long for them to encounter one another. Yaz swallowed hard when she saw Jules start to head towards her, touching the ball just lightly enough to keep it within reach. Her gaze didn’t linger on Yaz’s face, clearly too busy figuring out how to get around her. Yaz braced herself.

The first time they clashed, they literally whacked into one another. Yaz had tried to slide a foot in but Jules was too quick and she almost tumbled, arms smacking off one another. Jules breezed on effortlessly but Yaz was winded. The subtle pain took a moment to register and she rubbed at her arm, knowing it would bruise. Hopefully she’d be able to hide it. 

There were shouts from both within and outside the pitch as Jules streamed past both Bill and Martha, who joined forces to stop her but to no avail. The excitement reached fever pitch as Jules neared the goal, taking only seconds to estimate her angle and shoot. Yaz closed her eyes as she heard the ball hit the net, a sound followed shortly by elated cheers that seemed to echo around the field. 

She opened them and let out a frustrated breath, refusing to let the goal get to her.

It was only one goal. It just so happened that Jules had scored it within minutes.

Bill was shouting encouragement to the team but Yaz could hear the blood in her own ears, her heart racing with fear and adrenaline and a tinge of irritation. 

She wouldn’t let Jules through again. 

Thankfully, Clara and Rose managed to keep the ball up the other end of the pitch for a while and gave their defence a reprieve. Yaz knew she couldn’t relax, though, not when Jules was bound to return. 

To her surprise, the next time she did, Jules headed for Bill and Yaz watched, ready to receive the ball should Bill take possession. Bill was clearly much more used to Jules’s style of play and managed to head her off but not before the ball crossed the line. 

“Shit,” Bill cursed, and Yaz realised why she’d cursed when the referee signalled for a corner kick. 

Instantly, she looked for Jules. She was breathing hard, having run the length of the pitch several times over, but she was grinning, clearly having the time of her life. Yaz watched out of the corner of her eye as she re-tied her hair in a scruffy ponytail.

Several players huddled near the goal and Bill and Martha marked them, matching themselves up with players of a similar height. But Yaz knew Jules would draw the ball like a magnet and she’d be damned if she’d let her get hold of it. She sidled up next to her, watching the corner like a hawk.

Jules barely acknowledged her, although she did turn briefly to assess her surroundings. 

What happened next happened so fast that Yaz would later struggle to remember the order of events. The ball was kicked high, sailing clean over several players and straight for Jules, as Yaz had predicted. She tensed her legs, ready to spring and head the ball off, but she wasn’t the only one. Both she and Jules must have jumped at the same time. 

Rather than heading something relatively soft, Yaz heard and felt the solid thunk of two skulls colliding. She instantly saw stars. Her feet hit the ground but she crumpled, saved at the last second by her arms, which shot out to stop her faceplanting the grass. She could feel softness press against her belly and her thighs but for the time being her senses were otherwise overloaded: her ears were ringing and her vision was going grey at the edges, and all she could do was breathe through it and try not to throw up or pass out, or both. 

“Fuck,” she wheezed, wanting to touch her head but not trusting the strength in her remaining arm to hold her up. She screwed her eyes shut as she tried to clear the fog and sure enough, voices gradually started to filter through. 

“Yaz! Oh my god.”

“Are you guys alright?”

A whistle blew and Yaz could hear murmurs from the crowd. 

Gingerly, she opened her eyes, and realised she was resting her hands on either side of Jules’s torso. In fact, she was practically lying on top of her; Yaz could feel her chest moving underneath her as she breathed. 

“Shit,” she murmured, pushing herself off too quickly and feeling the world spin as she rolled onto her side, moving as far away as she could before she flopped onto her back, arms outstretched. That had been way too close.

“Martha! Can you get the first aid kit?”

 _Ryan_. That had to be Ryan. 

Yaz willed the nausea away and opened her eyes to look up into the worried faces of Ryan, Bill, and Clara. Martha joined them not long after. 

“Yaz, can you hear me?”

“Mm. Yeah.”

“Think you can sit up for me?”

The group dispersed slightly to give them some space but they lingered, clearly worried. Yaz felt some normalcy return as Bill gently guided her upright. Colours seemed to be back to normal and sounds were far less warped, but her head….

“Oww. My head.”

“Yeah you gave that a right good whack. You know when I said rock-solid defence, I didn't mean for you to use your skull,” Ryan joked, but he was clearly worried. 

Yaz heard Jules laugh behind them. _How could she laugh right now?_

“What the-”

Yaz pushed herself to her feet, wobbling slightly, and brushed off Bill’s restraining arm. 

“What the hell?” she demanded, striding over on jelly legs to the huddle that was surrounding Jules. She was still reeling from the head butt and a little shocked at Jules's reaction, which didn't seem appropriate. But she deflated slightly when she broke the circle and saw that Jule’s upper lip was covered in blood. 

“Why are you laughing?” she asked, shocked at the sight of crimson. 

“You really didn’t hold back, did you,” Jules laughed, brusquely wiping the blood from under her nose like it was a minor inconvenience. Yaz wondered if she’d broken it when she saw her wince and then Jules pushed herself to her feet, declining any and all help from the others. 

“Neither did you,” Yaz pointed out, teetering slightly. Martha came to her aid, swooping up behind her and wrapping an arm around her waist. 

“Both of you, off the pitch.”

“It's only a bit of blood,” Jules protested, lifting her top to wipe the blood away. Yaz openly stared at the flash of skin underneath. Her responses were slowed, her reactions muted. She'd blame that, later, for the blatant staring.

“Quite a lot, actually,” Martha corrected, starting to walk Yaz off the pitch and to the spectator stand at the end of the field. Yaz didn't have to turn to hear that Jules was following them, albeit reluctantly, chivvied along by a man with an Essex accent. Graham, presumably.

With relief, Yaz took a seat, and eyeballed Jules as she was guided to a seat a short distance away. Martha tested her reflexes while Ryan retrieved a plastic pack from the first aid kit and squeezed it roughly. He placed it on her head and seconds later Yaz flinched away when she felt the cold.

"I know," he murmured sympathetically, waiting patiently for her to take hold of it. "But it'll help with the swelling."

Yaz briefly wondered how bad her head looked and realised that her mum would lose her shit either way. She was meant to be going to a family wedding tomorrow, which she'd practically forgotten about given her nerves surrounding the game. 

"Take it easy, yeah? We'll get one of the subs on."

"Argh," she groaned in frustration, worried about her mum's reaction and that she'd be missing the rest of the game. She felt alright, now that the initial shock of pain and disorientation had passed.

"I'm fine, honest."

"Yaz, don't worry. Just stay put for a bit and I'll come over and see how you're doing later. And if you feel dizzy at all, give Ryan a wave. It's not like he's doing much, anyway," Martha said, and Yaz had to laugh at his expression of faux hurt.

"Other than making sure you guys don't kill one another," he said, glancing briefly over at Jules, and then they were heading back to the game, leaving Yaz alone. She tried not to eavesdrop on the conversation happening several seats away, but it wasn't like she had much else to do.

"I don't think it's broken, Doc," Graham said, and Yaz looked sideways to see him inspecting Jules's nose.

She batted him away impatiently and Yaz wondered what the nickname meant. 

"I know," she grumbled. "Now can I go back on?"

"No chance, cockle. If you won't take an ice pack, at least give yourself a break because I reckon that'll start to hurt in a moment."

"Huh. I’ve been through worse. You know that, Graham.”

Yaz tried not to flinch at her tone but Graham took it a lot better than she expected. Apparently he was used to it and he changed his own tone, speaking more gently. 

“That might be the case, but I’m not taking any chances with your head. You know the risks.”

Jules sighed and slumped into the plastic moulding of the seat, apparently capitulating to common sense. Yaz was stumped by the shift. Graham clearly knew how to deal with her. That, or the pain had start to hit. Yaz could feel her head throbbing with it.

“Fine. But I’m not waiting. I'll see you at practice next week.”

“Yes, you are. You’re not leaving until we’ve spoken afterwards and I know you’re alright. Do it for me, eh?"

“Fine, fine,” Jules huffed, folding her arms. She was practically pouting. "I don't like being told what to do."

“That’s more like it,” Graham grinned as he sensed victory, giving her a pat on the knee. “Keep out of trouble.”

He glanced over at Yaz, flashing her a smile and a thumbs up, which she acknowledged with a smile of her own. She watched him depart, and settled in for a wait as the game resumed. A few of her team mates glanced over in concern but she waved with her free hand, keen to reassure them that she was alright. 

“You feeling okay, Yaz?"

Jules was speaking to her, Yaz realised. And not only did she seem concerned for her wellbeing, she knew her name. _How does she know my name?_

Yaz dropped her hand, abandoning the wave to look at Jules in surprise. 

But her response was too delayed because Jules frowned in concern. She got to her feet and slid down the row of seats, settling in one right next to Yaz. The unexpected proximity left Yaz even more breathless. She remembered, suddenly, that she’d landed on top of Jules. They'd been pressed together so closely.

“Yaz?” Jules's eyes were a lovely shade of greeny-brown.

Yaz nodded, struck dumb. Her mind was overloading. 

"I need you to follow my finger, okay?”

Yaz nodded again, eyes fixed on Jules’s face. They were focusing just fine but she couldn’t quite bring them to focus on the slim finger Jules was now moving past her face; instead, they fixed on Jules’s nose, which looked swollen, then the shadow that was starting to develop under one of her eyes. She’d have a shiner. 

“You have to watch the finger, Yaz,” Jules breathed, her demeanour softening as she encouraged Yaz to follow her directions. “Not my face.”

“Right.” Yaz cleared her throat, embarrassed, and did as Jules asked. Apparently her reflexes were just fine because the look of concern on Jules’s face eased. 

“What are you, a doctor?” Yaz asked, figuring it was a reasonable question. 

“Something like that. I don’t think you have a concussion, but just take it easy.”

Yaz frowned, spotting a patch of dried blood just above Jules’s top lip.

“What about you?”

Jules sighed, relaxing back into her seat as she gazed out onto the pitch. Clara had the ball, but Yaz didn’t pay the game any attention. 

“I have a head like concrete.”

“You mean you’re stubborn?” 

Jules laughed at that and Yaz felt herself respond to the sound. It was a nice sound.

“Just about as stubborn as you, going for the ball like that. Here, keep that cold pack on it.”

“I don’t think I need it anymore,” Yaz protested, but then Jules was gently guiding her hand back. The contact made her skin tingle, but that could well have been the cold, Yaz reasoned. 

“Say that to the egg on your head.”

“Oh no,” Yaz groaned. She was dreading seeing it. “I’m meant to be going to a wedding tomorrow.”

She paused, realising what she’d just said.

 _What are you doing? One minute you want to shout at her and the next you’re telling her your weekend plans?_

“I’m sure your wedding date won’t mind.” Jules was watching the game once more, attention apparently diverted. 

In truth, Yaz did not have a wedding date. It was a bit of a sore point after she’d argued with her mum about it. Najia had attempted to set her up on a date with one of her friend’s sons but Yaz had met Nim before and as lovely as he was, he certainly wasn’t who she wanted to take to a wedding, never mind date. 

Taking a woman as her date to the wedding would have gone down like a lead balloon.

The unwelcome reminder made Yaz shift uncomfortably in her seat. 

“Or have you not got one?” Jules enquired, and Yaz decided that she’d already said too much. Besides, Jules was prying.

“Is that any of your business?”

Before Jules could reply the whistle blew, signalling the end of the match. If Jules did say something, Yaz didn’t hear it because she got to her feet and headed over to her team without sparing Jules a second thought. What was she thinking, even talking to this woman? The woman who had hurt her friend so badly, who had dented any confidence Yaz had on the field, and who had played so stubbornly that they'd both been sent off. 

Yaz started to wonder if she was, in fact, equipped to deal with whatever game Jules was playing.

* * *

Yaz grimaced the moment her mum saw the injury. 

“Yaz! Oh my god. What happened to you?”

“Just a bit of a clash, mum. Don’t worry. I’m fine.”

Najia prodded Yaz to a seat at the dining table, ignoring her protests. 

“I need to shower, mum."

“I don’t care. I’m taking a look at you. How did this happen?” Najia fussed over the bump and Yaz hissed as her fingers skimmed over the tender skin.

“Bad header. Someone else went for the ball at the same time.”

Yaz wrapped her arms around herself, remembering how she’d left things with Jules. She'd walked off after snapping at her and now that some time had passed, she felt awful. She couldn't shake the feeling that she'd over-reacted. She'd blamed Jules for the accident when really, she had played just as stubbornly. But Yaz didn’t know why she cared about whether she'd been rude. It wasn’t as if they were friends, after all. 

“I knew this football thing was a bad idea,” Najia tutted. 

“This could have happened at work, mum,” Yaz sighed, her patience wearing thin. It had already been a long day and it was only lunchtime. 

“Your career is more important than your hobby, Yaz. And I don’t like the idea of you being hurt at work, either, so don’t remind me, please. But voluntarily letting yourself get hurt like this?”

Yaz knew what her mum was getting at. That she'd been reckless with her own safety. She'd done it before when she'd run away from home. Yaz dipped her head.

There was an awkward pause and Najia’s eyes widened as she realised she'd put her foot in it. 

“You know what I mean. Sorry, love. I’m just worried about you. That's all.”

Yaz ignored the urge to literally put her head in her hands. She knew her mum had the best intentions but sometimes she could be a bit oblivious. It wasn't like Yaz could truly open up to her, anyway. The only reason her mum knew about how she'd felt before was because Sonya had been worried about her and told their parents when Yaz hadn't come home one day from school. Ever since the police had brought her home, her parents had been much more attentive. Borderline smothering. But Yaz knew they meant well, and perhaps even felt guilty about not noticing how Yaz had been feeling.

“I know," Yaz sighed. "I know."

“Besides, some of those women are awfully butch.”

And just like that, Yaz found herself on the defensive once again. She seemed to be doing that a lot lately, both on and off the pitch.

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Yaz tried not to let on how irritated she was, but she couldn’t help it. Her mum had no idea how her words could sting but then, Yaz supposed, that was what mums did best. Push buttons.

“Nothing, nothing,” Najia muttered, opening one of the kitchen drawers and rummaging in it. “Here. Arnica. Let me put some on, see if that’ll stop the bruising.”

But Yaz was utterly fed up with the day’s events and she snagged the tube from her mum’s hands. 

“I’ll do it after my shower. Promise.”

She offered her mum a tight smile, desperate to get away and to the privacy of her room. Her thoughts were swirling and she needed space. 

“Yaz?”

Yaz bit back a sigh as she reached her bedroom door. 

“I just want you to be happy, love. I know things have been hard.”

“Yeah,” Yaz admitted. “They have. But mum, this is a freedom for me. I’ve made friends. I have fun. Well, most of the time," she conceded. "Just..let me have this, yeah?”

Najia sighed deeply, clearly concerned. 

"It's not like I can do much otherwise, is it? You've grown so much, Yaz. You're an independent young woman." 

She regarded her daughter fondly and Yaz pushed aside the retort that was on the tip of her tongue. She'd never be independent while she lived at home but now wasn't exactly the time to mention her plans to move out. 

"As long as this new hobby makes you happy. That's all," Najia continued.

“It does,” Yaz affirmed. She was sure it did.

So why did she feel so terrible?


	7. Social

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to everyone reading this, I outlined this fic many months ago when it was possible to actually leave the house. We shall have to live vicariously through Yaz in this one :) Although we might not want to...  
> Thanks again to everyone reading this, you are keeping me going with your lovely comments!

Yaz scanned the room and tried not to wrinkle her nose at the smell of beer and stale sweat. She thought she’d be used to it by now, given how much time she now spent in locker rooms, but this pub had an odour that Yaz associated with the regular presence of heavy drinkers.

It had been Bill's idea to come to this particular pub, a proper old boozer that was largely filled with peeling wallpaper and old men, but the regulars seemed to tolerate the gaggle of semi-drunk women by the fruit machine with good humour. 

“Yaz! Get your arse over here,” Bill gestured, and Yaz could already tell she was already down at least two pints. 

“Looks like you lot started without me,” she commented, waving hello to the rest of the team. She was about to defend her late arrival by blaming her sister for hogging the bathroom but was glad she held back from that embarrassing truth when Ryan entered. As soon as she saw him, Bill let rip.

“First round’s on you at the next place,” Bill said, her face and voice stern until she started to laugh at his expression. “You know the rules. Last to arrive is the first to buy.”

“Like you’d ever let me forget them,” Ryan sighed. “Can you blame me, though? I had to make sure I was looking the part for the biggest social event of the league. Well. Second biggest,” he amended. “This is just a warm-up for the end of season social.”

Clara cast an appreciative eye over his outfit but the others were too preoccupied downing the rest of their drinks to pay him much attention. 

“Wait. We’re not staying here?” Yaz asked. She’d already taken off her leather jacket and hovered by an empty seat, confused about whether she should sit or stay standing.

“No way,” Bill murmured. “This place is great for pre-drinks, cheap pints. Y’know? Plus Mickey is a bit of a legend and gives us a team discount.”

Bill pointed out a man behind the bar who winked at Yaz as he dried his hands. 

“Looks like you’ve got a fan,” Bill exclaimed, nudging Yaz in the ribs. She was a bit more enthusiastic than usual and Yaz tried not to wince as her side bore the brunt. She’d overdone it in the gym a couple of days ago and her intercostal muscles were still telling her about it.

“Good thing we’re leaving, then,” Yaz replied breezily. “Where are we going?”

“Oh ho ho. Where else but Sheffield’s very own gay quarter?”

Yaz blinked. She’d heard of it, certainly, and had even been called out on a couple of occasions to deal with incidents there, but she’d never actually patronised it. She felt a tingle of nerves and excitement at the prospect. 

Ryan was grumbling. 

“You always knew we’d end up there, Ryan. Most of the players in this league are that way inclined. You know it as well as I do.”

“And you know it more than most,” Ryan replied. Even Bill had to laugh at his response. 

“Touche,” she admitted, sliding her arms through her coat sleeves. The weather had started to turn a lot cooler but Yaz practically lived in her leather jacket in all seasons. Tonight it had turned out to be a fortunate choice. She gave herself a quick once-over, realising that she actually cared, for once, what she looked like. 

“I can’t wait to see Graham’s face,” Ryan laughed, and Yaz froze as she inspected her choice of footwear. 

Graham. Which meant only one thing. Jules’s team would be there. Yaz shook her head. Of course they would. The whole event was arranged between all the teams in the league. She tried to imagine Bill and Jules in the same room as the other captains organising it all. 

Yaz hadn’t seen Jules since they’d literally clashed on the pitch, aside from a passing glance when they trained at the same time. That happened occasionally, but not as often as Yaz had expected, and the thought that she might actually see Jules in an environment that had nothing to do with football and everything to do with cutting loose and having fun…

She was intrigued as to how the evening would pan out. 

A thrill of excitement passed through her again. She hadn’t felt so energised about a night out in a long time, so much so that when they arrived at the biggest gay bar in town and Yaz spotted Graham at the bar, she laughed aloud at the expression on his face. 

To say he looked shellshocked would have been an understatement. The lights were strobing green and purple and red, and the music was so loud that Yaz could barely hear herself think, but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually been out in a place this big or loud. 

She looked around the room, trying to pick out familiar faces. It was hard, given how dark it was and how the booths around the dance floor were so poorly lit, but the dancefloor itself was like some holy grail, lit from underneath and attracting patrons left, right, and centre. There were already some people on it, a couple of players that Yaz recognised from another team, but no Jules. 

Disappointment tinged her enthusiasm but Yaz didn’t have the chance to linger on it because Martha was pulling her towards a booth and into a conversation that Yaz could just about hear over the music. 

Ryan returned with a tray of shots and one single lemonade, which he handed to Yaz. She took a sip and used the opportunity to scan the room again, touched that Ryan had remembered that she didn’t drink. 

She wished she did when she finally laid eyes on Jules. It wasn’t even that late in the evening - they’d been there for perhaps half an hour - but the dance floor had started to get busier even in that short space of time and when Yaz next looked, Jules was on it. Not that she was dancing much; her hands were placed on someone’s waist and her eyes were closed, because she was kissing said someone in a way that took Yaz’s breath away. 

She whirled back, almost choking on her lemonade. 

Martha looked at her curiously, then at the dancefloor. She let out a low whistle when she saw what Yaz had seen. 

“She’s quick wherever she goes,” Martha said, eyebrows raised in surprise. Yaz felt her stomach sink at the implication. 

“When you mentioned a mid-season social, I didn’t realise it would be this...messy,” Yaz sighed, trying to ignore the sour feeling that made her stomach feel like it was cramping. Her mouth tasted bitter and she knew it wasn’t from the lemonade. 

“Luckily, med school prepared me for this level of drinking,” Martha bragged, toasting Yaz with a shot from the next round that Ryan had deposited on their table. She was oblivious to Yaz's discontent but Yaz supposed that was a blessing in disguise. She didn't want to be a buzzkill and besides, she wasn't sure quite what she was feeling, other than distinctly uncomfortable.

She glanced at the dance floor once more - because apparently she was feeling particularly masochistic - and promptly downed the rest of her drink. The woman Jules was kissing was beautiful; olive skin and a shock of curly hair that Jules was currently running her fingers through. 

Yaz wondered how that would feel. The thought prompted such a visceral response that she moved without thinking, as if she could simply up and leave the idea behind.

“Just gonna-” she announced, getting to her feet abruptly and squeezing past Rose and Clara so that she could escape to the bathroom.

But what should have been a brief moment of respite was anything but, because she opened the door and walked straight into Amy pinning Bill against a wall as she deprived her of oxygen. Luckily, neither of them seemed to notice her arrival because they were too busy kissing and Yaz backtracked quickly. Martha had been right. Bill had been keeping secrets from her. Yaz numbly turned and walked back to the group for lack of something better to do.

This fun evening out was turning into something out of her worst nightmare. And although she was with friends, Yaz felt alone and unnecessary. Her confidence had evaporated. Perhaps she could leave. Nobody would notice, at least not at the rate they were going - Yaz was amazed many of them were still standing after the amount of alcohol they'd put away. 

She traipsed back to their booth, trying to figure out if she could pick up her jacket and slip out without anyone noticing. It was hard to ignore the dancefloor but she managed and Yaz gave herself a mental pat on the back. Small victories. 

“Yaz! There you are,” Rose shouted, draping an arm across Yaz’s shoulder. “You okay?”

Yaz was so surprised at the question that she laughed. 

“Been better,” she admitted. “Got a bit of a headache.”

Rose tugged her into a clumsy hug. “‘S pretty loud, isn’t it.”

“Yeah,” Yaz murmured, grateful for the fact that Rose didn’t judge her or call her a sissy. She knew her excuse sounded weak. 

“Is something up?” Rose continued, pulling back to look Yaz in the eye. Even though she was pretty drunk, she seemed genuinely concerned. “Talk to me.”

Yaz didn't feel worthy of Rose's sympathy and without thinking, she looked to the dance floor. Jules was being pulled off it by the hand and into a dark corner of the room, and Yaz swallowed, hard. Rose let out a sympathetic sound when she saw what - or rather, who - Yaz was looking at.

“Oh, Yaz. Come on. Sit here.”

Rose plonked herself onto the seat, gesturing for Yaz to join her. Some of the others had gone to dance but Martha was still there, lining up another round of shots for the stragglers who needed a bit more Dutch courage. 

The moment Rose joined her, Yaz knew what she was about to say and she also knew that she didn’t want to talk about it. Instead, she took the bull by the horns and picked up a shot glass of her own. It was sticky and the smell of aniseed hit her nose after a second - sambuca, it must have been - and Yaz downed it without thinking.

She gagged as the syrupy liquid hit the back of her throat but she forced it down, feeling a pat on the back as she swallowed it. 

“Yaz! What?!” Rose was shouting near her ear, completely confused. “I thought you didn’t drink?”

Yaz shook her head, her eyes watering. 

“I don’t,” she grimaced. She hated liquorice. 

“If you’re going to start somewhere, it shouldn’t be with sambuca,” Martha chipped in. “Vodka is probably safer.”

“Listen to the doctor,” Rose laughed, still looking at Yaz with concern. Yaz made a point of downing the next shot without pulling a face and that seemed to put Rose more at ease. She took a shot of her own, and Yaz breathed a sigh of relief. If she wanted to forget about what was bothering her, it would be a lot easier if she could be left to her own devices. 

“Medical advice. Got it,” she said, feeling the alcohol burn on the way down. She had always wondered why people drank but a few minutes later, she realised why. Her arms, legs, and insides started to feel pleasantly warm. Her thoughts quietened; her mood lifted. She felt reckless but liberated. Brave.

Yaz could feel herself becoming more animated as she, Rose, and Martha started to talk about Ryan’s love life. He was on the lookout, and the others had taken great delight in pointing out hot women for him to try and chat up. Time started to lose sense of meaning as Yaz took another shot, and then at some point they were joined by Donna, who cajoled them into dancing with her. Cross-team bonding, she called it. 

But the walls were starting to move and Yaz waved the others off, breathing fast as hot waves of nausea started to make themselves known. 

What was she thinking? 

Yaz shook her head and regretted it when it made the room positively spin. The music started to make life even more difficult and Yaz struggled to focus her eyes, unsure where to even look. She certainly didn’t want to see Bill, or Jules. They’d just remind her that she couldn’t get her shit together. 

The table looked awfully appealing and Yaz folded her arms on it, lowering her head to them to catch a break. But even though her body was at rest, her mind was churning. She’d never find someone who was interested in her. Why had she even thought it was a possibility? She was practically married to her job and it wasn't like she was the most fun person to be around a lot of the time. Alcohol was making her thoughts spiral horribly and suddenly Yaz wanted it out of her system, but the only way for that to happen was to wait it out. She groaned loudly in frustration.

Apparently the music wasn’t loud enough to drown out her groan, because then someone sat down next to her. Yaz felt the seat dip but didn't much care about who had joined her because at that moment she didn't much care about anything other than not feeling quite so terrible. 

"You ok?"

The voice was not what she was expecting. Yaz turned her head to one side and opened her eyes with much effort. She huffed out a laugh when she saw who had joined her. She had to laugh or she’d cry, and besides, it seemed that the universe was having a laugh at her expense. It seemed only right that she laugh back.

"Jules."

Jules tilted her head to one side as she regarded Yaz. At least, it looked like she did. Yaz was struggling to figure out which way was up. 

"Why are you here? You were...busy," Yaz slurred, briefly lifting her head so she could fling an arm out in the direction of the dance floor and nearly smacking Jules in the process. She snorted, letting it flop back to the table. Losing control of her limbs was new and somehow entertaining. 

"Yeah, well…" Jules trailed off, and Yaz stared at the crease that emerged between her eyebrows. She got it when she was concentrating, apparently. Usually it emerged when she was taking a penalty or lining up a corner. 

"You should go away. Carry on scoring." Yaz laughed bitterly at her own pun, knowing how she sounded but not caring anyway. "You're good at that. Don't let me stop you."

"You aren't stopping me," Jules laughed, and Yaz rolled her eyes. That reckless feeling returned and she embraced it. What else did she have to lose?

"I don't think I ever will. Always getting through. No matter what."

"Okay...I'm not really sure what you're getting at," Jules frowned, and part of Yaz instantly hated that she'd let on just how much Jules affected her. The other part of her was too drunk to care. "But I'm not leaving you like this. Come on, at least let me call you a cab."

She laid a tentative hand on Yaz's shoulder but Yaz shrugged it off impatiently. She didn't need Jules's sympathy and she told her so. 

_So far, so good._

Yaz gave herself another mental pat on the back for standing up for herself and then lurched to her feet unsteadily, fully planning on striding off and into the night. But her coordination wasn't all there and she stumbled, just about catching herself on the table. Warm hands steadied her around her waist and Yaz could feel them pressing against the muscle there so carefully that she had to pause and take it in.

"I can walk," she insisted, and Jules instantly pulled her hands back. Yaz scooped up her jacket victoriously, flinging it over her shoulder rather than putting it on, and took a confident step forward. But those hands returned seconds later when Yaz started to teeter and this time she was secretly grateful for them because she was pretty sure she'd have hit the floor otherwise. 

"Come on. Put your arm up here."

Yaz let Jules guide her arm around her neck and tried to ignore the solid muscle of her body pressed up close. Her feet were uncooperative but together, they made it to the door and the bouncer, who Jules assured they were fine. 

“Have a good night, ladies.” He winked at them and Yaz felt the urge to punch him. She also wanted to get away from Jules but she knew she wouldn’t make it far on her own, so instead she hung onto Jules’s side as she arranged an Uber. Somehow, the fresh air made her feel even more drunk than before. 

“Thought air sobered you up,” she slurred, and she knew she was talking too loudly but her ears were ringing and even talking was a struggle. If Jules replied, Yaz didn’t hear it; she was too busy trying not to throw up. She felt Jules sigh beside her, her hand clasped around Yaz’s to keep her upright and her other arm, to Yaz’s immense surprise, wrapped around her waist. Despite the circumstances, it felt nice.

They stood in silence for a few minutes, although Yaz had truly lost any concept of time. She abandoned it willingly, wondering instead how she’d found herself in this situation. Jules was quiet beside her, breathing slow and steady, and Yaz tried to mirror her. It helped with the nausea.

Eventually they talked a little, but Yaz could hear herself speaking without thinking. She had no idea what she was even saying but it couldn’t have been too horrendous because Jules stayed put, keeping her upright. Safe. Although Jules was the last person Yaz expected or really wanted to stay with her, she knew that she felt safe, at least.

Then she felt Jules jostle her and then she realised she was being put into a car. Apparently she’d started to nod off on Jules’s shoulder.

“Don’t take me home,” she panicked, wondering how Jules knew where she lived. Her mum would kill her if she saw her like this. But Jules ignored her, joining Yaz in the taxi and talking urgently with the driver. Finally, he started the car but Yaz had no idea what happened next because she sank into the seat and let her eyes slide shut. Within seconds, she was out like a light.


	8. Hangover

Yaz awoke with a start. Her brain took a moment to catch up with her eyes but all she knew was that it was broad daylight, and she had no idea where she was. 

_What the fuck_.

She blinked a few times, wondering what had woken her and waiting for her brain to fully switch on. It seemed to be taking longer than usual, but her complete lack of knowledge about how she'd ended up where she had eventually kicked it into action.

She was in a bed, judging by the softness under her head and the fact that there was a duvet wrapped vaguely around her torso. Yaz used a trembling hand to lift the duvet up just enough to see that she was clothed. Not that she recognised what she was wearing, but the fact she was wearing any item of clothing had to be a good sign. 

She was in a bed, but whose? How the hell had she got here? Yaz tried to look sideways without moving and as soon as she did a spike of pain shot through her skull. The headache that followed was more of a dull throb but Yaz gritted her teeth and bore it. She had to know if she was alone.

The relief she felt when she noticed the bed was otherwise empty was indescribable. In fact, it didn't look like anyone had slept there - the pillows were still fluffed up and arranged neatly. But the absence of another person meant that Yaz was still none the wiser as to whose bed she was in, or where that person was. She cast her mind back to the previous evening but it was a frustrating blur, a black hole in her memory. She remembered Martha, Rose, and shots. And that...was it.

The moment she tried to lift her head it felt like it had been split in half and she let it fall back to the pillow with a moan. It was only a distance of a few inches but the motion was enough to set off another wave of pounding that made Yaz regret she'd even moved. Her mouth tasted like something had died in it and she was gasping for water but even thinking about sitting up was not remotely appealing. 

"Oh my god," she groaned, passing a hand over her face and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She did a mental checklist, wriggling her limbs to check they were still attached. 

Distantly, she could hear movement.

 _Stay calm, Khan_.

Other than the pounding in her head, she felt reasonably normal - no injuries or aches that indicated she'd done anything she'd regret. Cautiously craning her head to one side, she spotted a glass of water on the bedside table. Her phone was nowhere to be seen. Or her wallet, for that matter. 

"Fuck."

She'd never misplaced her belongings like that before. The regret certainly wasn't helping how terrible she felt. 

First things first. That’s what Yaz had learned over the years: fix what she was able to before attempting to deal with the bigger issues. She could hear how raspy she sounded and the water looked too appealing to ignore. She knew she'd have to get up eventually and judging by the daylight it was mid-morning already. Panic started to set in, not helping the pall of dread that had settled over her like a second skin.

She eased herself up, closing her eyes briefly as the pounding in her head chased her upright. Yaz swore she’d never touch alcohol again if it made her feel this terrible and she blindly reached for the glass. But instead of something smooth, her fingertips encountered a sharp corner. 

Yaz opened her eyes to see that she’d discovered a photo frame. She squinted at the photograph inside, wondering what she was looking at. Six people in camouflage, standing in a forest, covered in mud. They were all grinning at the camera, victorious flashes of white that contrasted with the dark streaks of mud that covered their faces. Yaz did a double take when she saw who was standing in the middle of the group, arms draped around the others. 

Jules. 

Yaz wasn’t certain what the insignia on her uniform indicated but she could certainly figure out what the red cross on her arm meant. 

Yaz reached for the water, hangover temporarily forgotten in light of what she’d just seen. She glanced around the room as she drank, but there were no other signs of Jules there. It was neat and tidy, almost utilitarian. Completely different to what Yaz would have expected from someone who seemed so irrepressible and energetic on the pitch. The only clue in sight was the photograph but as Yaz reached for it to take a closer look, she heard footsteps approaching and retracted her hand quickly. 

There was a gentle knock. 

“Yaz? Are you awake?”

Yaz cleared her throat, feeling the nausea return. She realised she was nervous. She had no idea what had happened but she had a sinking feeling that she’d been rude and not only that, that Jules had had to take her home because she had been too drunk to stand. 

“Just about,” she replied, feeling the scratchiness in her throat. 

Jules hesitated.

“Are you decent?”

Yaz glanced down, struggling to read the words printed on the t-shirt she was wearing. 

“Yeah.”

“Mind if I come in?”

Yaz wondered why Jules was being so polite. Then, she wondered where Jules had slept, if not in her own bed. 

“Of course not,” she sighed. She wasn’t looking forward to this discussion, and had no idea what to expect. 

Jules eased open the door, bearing a box of paracetamol and a cup of coffee. A smile lit up her face and instantly made Yaz feel a little better.

_Okay. She’s not mad at me._

“Morning! I thought you could do with some caffeine.”

Yaz pulled the duvet up under her chin, watching silently as Jules deposited her cargo on the bedside table. Jules didn’t seem bothered by her being so quiet, and started chatting animatedly. 

“I hope you don’t mind me bringing you here. You kept asking me how I knew your address but I really didn’t know where else to take you,” she laughed.

Yaz groaned in embarrassment, hiding her face as she brought her knees up to her chest and let her forehead come to rest on them. She felt the bed dip as Jules sat on the edge. 

“I’m so sorry,” she murmured. “I never drink. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m sorry I ruined your evening.”

To her surprise, Jules laughed again.

“You really didn’t. Besides, I wasn't going to leave you like that. I had a duty of care once I saw how you were doing.”

Yaz tentatively lifted her head up to see Jules watching her with a concerned expression. 

“Why are you being so nice to me? I'm pretty sure I was being a dick.” Even though Yaz felt like shit and probably looked even worse, Jules was clearly not judging her for her behaviour. For that, Yaz was grateful because she was not feeling particularly forgiving of herself. 

“Why would I not be nice to you?” Jules frowned, genuinely confused.

Yaz didn’t quite know what to say to that, so she made a non-committal noise and rubbed at her head as if it would chase away the hammering inside it.

“I don’t know about you, but I’ve got a serious head wonk today,” Jules said sympathetically, gracefully accepting the change in subject. “I need to stop mixing my drinks.”

“I need to stop drinking, period,” Yaz sighed. Acid started to work its way up her throat and she swallowed thickly. The last thing she needed to do was be sick. Her self-respect was already hanging by a thread and being ill would obliterate any remaining dignity she was clinging onto. 

_Speaking of…_

“Where are my clothes?” Yaz asked, dreading the answer. She was suddenly struck by the fact that Jules was dressed in clothes not too dissimilar from what she herself was wearing - an old band t-shirt that had seen better days and some loose boxer shorts. 

“You insisted on dressing yourself,” Jules rushed to reassure her, eyes wide. “I thought it’d be safer for you to sleep in here. You know, in case you fell off the sofa.”

Yaz wondered what the hell she’d done with her belongings but realising that Jules had sacrificed her own bed made her feel even more mortified. 

“Oh no. You slept on the sofa? I’m so, so sorry.” 

“It’s a very comfy sofa. Don’t worry about it,” Jules smiled. Something about her bedside manner put Yaz at ease and she let herself relax, just slightly. 

“You should take some of those, they’ll help with your head,” Jules suggested, nodding towards the paracetamol. 

As Yaz fumbled with the packaging, she glanced at the photograph once again. Maybe she was still slightly drunk or maybe Jules’s presence had put her at ease but Yaz opened her mouth without thinking, trying to make casual conversation and redeem herself by at least acting like a normal human being, despite how awful she felt.

“When was this taken? You look so young.”

Jules didn’t reply as Yaz swallowed the tablets with a swig of water, and when she spoke something in her voice had changed. 

“A few years ago,” she said eventually, staring at the photograph. 

Yaz was brimming with questions but she shelved them and stuck to something that seemed not too probing.

“Do you still keep in touch? You look like good mates,” Yaz asked as she reached for the coffee mug, taking the chance to look at the image once more. 

When she turned back, Jules had got to her feet and Yaz realised with dismay that the light had completely left her eyes. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you ask too many questions?” Jules said, forcing a strangled laugh. Yaz tried not to flinch at her tone. It was the only clue to Jules in the room and she’d wanted to know more, but apparently asking questions about that particular photograph hadn’t been a clever idea. It wasn’t like Jules had expected her to be staying the night, after all. She probably hadn’t thought to hide it. Yaz mentally kicked herself for well and truly putting her foot in it.

“Part and parcel of the job,” she replied. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“I’m just going to shower,” Jules cut in, opening more drawers than Yaz suspected was necessary and pulling out various items of clothing. “Do you need a lift home?”

Her back was to Yaz and she could see the tension in Jules’s body, like someone had wound her up with frightening efficiency. The shift was sudden and left Yaz at a complete loss for what to do to make things better. 

“No. No, it’s ok,” she said, wondering what she’d done wrong. Just moments ago they’d been talking civilly and now Jules could barely look at her. 

“I’ll see myself out,” she said, abandoning her coffee to push herself out of bed and onto protesting legs. She willed them into action and tried to ignore the way the room moved around her, realising that she’d overstayed her welcome. 

“I’ll wash these and give them back as soon as I can,” Yaz said, gesturing to the pyjamas. Jules half-turned to look at her, not really making eye contact, and Yaz’s heart sank when she saw the pain in her expression. She hesitated, feeling out of her depth. Clearly, nothing she could say would help so instead she murmured another apology before turning to look for her clothes.

_You idiot, Yaz._

Nothing was going right. All she wanted to do was crawl into bed and ignore the world but she had to get home to do that. Once the door to the en suite shut, Yaz got to work. After a few moments she found her clothes haphazardly shoved under the bed and she grimaced as she bent over to retrieve them. 

Thankfully, her phone and wallet were still in the pockets of her jeans and she shoved them on quickly, dismissing the idea of putting on her shirt and bra in the interest of time. It felt like she was racing against the clock because she was certain Jules expected her to be gone by the time her shower finished.

Water started running and Yaz was briefly derailed by the thought that Jules was naked in the next room.

She hurried out of the bedroom, finding her leather jacket in the living room. She departed quickly, despite the part of her that wanted to linger and look at the rest of Jules’s flat. Nosiness had got her into trouble; there was no point in making things worse. But now she was more confused than ever by Jules. Rather than getting to know her better, Yaz felt like she understood her even less. She was far more enigmatic than Yaz had realised; her persona on the pitch and with her team was utterly different to what she’d just experienced. Now she knew what Bill had meant about Jules being emotionally unavailable; for a brief moment, though, she had looked like she was going to open up before she’d shut down completely.

Yaz took extra care on her way down the stairs, only relaxing once she’d safely set foot outside. 

_Now what?_

She reached for her phone, amazed to see that it still had battery, and did a double-take when she saw that the team Whatsapp group had blown up, full of messages asking if she was alright and if she’d got lucky. She fired off a quick reply assuring them that she’d made it home safe and sound, and alone, then called her sister. Her phone chimed with a message from Bill but Yaz couldn’t face the prospect of talking to her and pocketed her phone instead. She’d reply. Eventually.

* * *

“Where were you?” Sonya stared at Yaz open-mouthed as she slid into the passenger seat. Yaz wondered how rough she looked but she could hazard a guess - for a start, she was only half dressed in jeans and a faded t-shirt, carrying the rest of her clothes. At least she’d made sure to hide her bra in the pile.

“Long story,” she said, buckling her seatbelt. 

“Is this a walk of shame?” Sonya frowned, pulling away from the kerb.

“Not in the way you think it is,” Yaz murmured, letting her head fall back against the headrest as they drove off. 

“Whoever he is, he’s got interesting taste in music,” Sonya smirked. Yaz glared at her. 

“Alright, alright. I’m not going to tell mum and dad. They’re out doing the shop.”

“Please don’t,” Yaz said. Ever since she’d tried to run away from home as a teenager, her parents had been more conscious about where Yaz spent her free time. 

“I told them you got in late,” Sonya said, sensing Yaz’s apprehension. “They have no idea.”

“Really? Thank you,” Yaz sighed in relief. She wouldn’t have been able to cope with the interrogation if they’d known. Not for the first time, Yaz wondered what life would be like when she finally moved out and didn’t have to tell her parents where she was all the time.

“So...who is he?”

“Sonya,” Yaz warned. “I’m not talking about it.”

Although she tried to be firm, Yaz was shocked to realise that she’d become teary-eyed. She was utterly exhausted despite the several hours of sleep she seemed to have managed; she chalked it up to feeling hungover and for the way she’d left things with Jules. 

“Yaz? What’s wrong?”

Sonya’s tone had softened and Yaz wiped at her eyes, sighing heavily. 

“You wouldn’t understand,” she muttered, crossing her arms as she stared out of the window. She’d not even so much as mentioned to Sonya that she was attracted to women. 

“Try me. Please, Yaz. Don’t shut me out again.”

Guilt rolled through Yaz when she realised that Sonya was only trying to reach out to her. 

“Come on, I’ll make you some tea and everything. Maybe order us a pizza because no offence, Yaz, but you smell like a bar and I bet you’re hanging out of your arse.”

“Oh god. You think they’ll still be out when we get back?”

“If I drive quickly enough, yeah.”

Yaz turned a blind eye to the way Sonya increased the speed, focusing instead on the world as it passed by her window. Her sister seemed to sense her need for quiet and for that she was grateful; they sat in comfortable silence for the remainder of the drive and, to Yaz’s immense relief, made it home before their parents did. 

Sonya was true to her word and ordered a pizza while Yaz showered. She lingered in the stall for longer than was strictly necessary but the hot water did wonders for her mood and made her feel more human than she had when she’d woken up; when she finally emerged, she felt better equipped to have the conversation that Sonya seemed to be insisting they have. 

Yaz had just got into some of her own pyjamas when Sonya knocked. She wondered how she’d be able to wash Jules’s clothes without her mum seeing, but that was a problem for another day.

“Pizza will be here in half an hour.”

 _Half an hour_...there was no way she could dodge the topic for half an hour. She was struck by an idea. Something that might make her feel at least a little more comfortable to say what she was about to say.

“Alright. Get in, then.”

Yaz slipped into her bed, holding up the duvet for Sonya to join her and pulling it over their heads. Sonya started to laugh when she realised what she’d done. 

“We haven’t done this in years.”

“I know. Remember we used to think we were being so clever? Like hiding would make us silent, too.”

“Bet we were well loud,” Sonya giggled. “We used to gossip so much and about so much shit. Danny Biswas. Remember him?”

Yaz grinned. As sisters, they’d been very close until their teenage years had wreaked havoc, but recreating a safe space from their childhood instantly sent Yaz back to happier times. 

“Come on then, Yaz. Spill. I want the goss. Who were you with?”

Yaz chewed on her bottom lip as she wondered how best to broach the topic. 

“She’s called Jules.”

Sonya’s eyes widened almost comically.

“She? Yaz, you dark horse.”

Just admitting that she’d spent the night at another woman’s house felt liberating; Yaz didn’t feel the urge to correct her sister’s assumption that they’d slept together. Right now, she just needed Sonya to realise that her love life was probably more diverse than she’d assumed.

“You don’t mind?”

“What? That you spent the night with another woman?”

“Well. Not quite. But it doesn’t bother you that I wasn’t at some guy’s house?”

Sonya shook her head. 

“Why would it? You’re leaving out the most important part, though, Yaz. What do you mean not quite?”

The relief that had washed over Yaz was replaced with dread as she remembered how she’d left things with Jules. But Sonya was looking at her so eagerly that Yaz realised she had her very own sounding board: someone a step removed from the complex situation Yaz had found herself in. So she started to speak, filling Sonya in on the basics of what had happened and leaving out the more fiddly bits, like how she actually felt about it all. The more she said, the more Yaz realised that things really were more complicated than she’d thought. 

“Oh my god, Yaz.”

It was reassuring to hear someone else find the situation just as confusing. 

“What are you going to do? No wonder you feel so awful, by the way. Alcohol just makes things a hundred times worse.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” Yaz frowned, although she already knew that Sonya’s social life was more lively than her own had been until recently. It felt like she was only just starting to explore what life had to offer when her younger sister had been fully capitalising on her youth for years. 

“You’re not answering my question, though.”

“Honestly? I don’t know. I need to apologise.”

“Probably. But don’t forget, Yaz. You’ve done absolutely nothing wrong here, okay?”

“You think?”

“I know, because I know you.”

Yaz sniffed and reached out for her sister, overcome by gratitude. She’d needed to hear those words so badly and Sonya’s timing couldn’t have been better. 

“God, Yaz. I hate seeing you like this. You know that whatever happens though, I’ll never judge you for it, as long as you keep me in the loop. This sounds like it’s going to get interesting.”

Yaz pulled back from the hug, laughing tearily.

“I can’t believe I just got so soppy,” Sonya huffed, rolling her eyes. “Right. Pizza and a shit film. My choice, though, cos you’ll probably fall asleep halfway through.”


	9. Bus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jodie stans might recognise a reference to something in here...gold star to anyone who gets it 😉

Despite her sister’s advice, Yaz couldn’t help but mull over how she’d left things with Jules. The memories of her departure and random flashbacks of the night that she’d forgotten put her on edge, despite her best efforts, and what made things worse was that they didn’t have regular contact or communication; Yaz didn’t even have Jules’s phone number and it didn’t feel polite to pop over unannounced and return her clothes. Asking Bill for her number was also out of the question. The last thing she wanted was for Bill to find out where she’d spent the night after the social. When Bill brought the topic up at work, Yaz had been so twitchy that she’d even commented on it, making a joke and changing the topic in a way that made Yaz feel even more guilty. The last thing she wanted was for Bill to feel uncomfortable. 

It was tiring, juggling all of those thoughts and feelings. But she’d have to do her best to keep the balls in motion until she could see Jules and try to clear the air, and her only chance would be to hope they’d cross paths during training. Her plan was scuppered when Jules was nowhere to be seen at the next session, much to Yaz’s disappointment, and then Yaz had to miss the following session because of a work shift that her superior refused to let her swap.

Fate had different ideas, though. Just when Yaz was starting to worry that she wouldn’t see Jules for the foreseeable future, during practice one evening, Bill announced a Saturday trip to Leeds. Given their success in the league thus far - they were in the top five teams - they’d been invited to play in a couple of friendly games. 

“Don’t worry, Yaz. I made sure Sunder let us both have it off.”

“Oh, no,” Yaz groaned, secretly pleased that she’d be able to attend but knowing deep down that it would come at a price. “What do we have to do in exchange?”

Bill grimaced. 

“Couple of extra shifts this week. But it’ll be worth it, I promise! We can get a sneak preview of the new kids on the block.”

There was a new team that they’d yet to encounter, captained by a woman who Yaz had only heard murmurings of: Missy. She sounded intense, to say the least, and Yaz was more than a little apprehensive about crossing paths with her. But she was intrigued to see how the team played and they’d certainly get an insight into their dynamic if they could watch any of the other games.

Any nerves Yaz had about the upcoming games were superceded by nerves about finally seeing Jules again. After a night of restless sleep and a 6am alarm, Yaz rolled out of bed and headed to the practice ground, from where they were to take a minibus. She’d stowed Jules’s clean pyjamas in her kit bag, just in case, and was running over icebreakers in her head when she pulled up and almost stalled the car. The headlights flickered in the gloom of the autumn morning, illuminating a blonde player who looked awfully familiar.

Jules had just parked and was retrieving something from the boot of her car when Yaz emerged. 

Yaz looked over to the minibus and when she saw how many people were gathered outside it, realised that they were to share a ride to Leeds. It made sense - it was only an hour away - but Yaz hadn’t even considered the possibility that their teams would travel together. And judging by the number of people amassed by the door and filing into the bus, she and Jules were some of the last people to arrive. 

Jules didn’t seem to notice her, though, and had locked her car without looking behind her. Yaz opted not to hurry after her. It would seem weird and she really didn’t want anybody to overhear their conversation. Instead, she pretended to dig something out of her own boot and used the moment of privacy to collect herself. 

_ Maybe after we’ve played the game, I can take her to one side. Or when we get back I can just walk past her car and give her the clothes. _

Yaz sighed. She was massively overthinking things, fixating on how to return some items of clothing instead of considering how best to apologise. It was cowardly and not how she operated, normally. This was an issue she needed to tackle head on and like the independent woman her mother assured her she was.

Yaz shoved the bag strap onto her shoulder and slammed the boot shut just in time for Bill to heckle at her. 

“Hurry up, Yaz! We need a deciding vote on what music to play.”

Yaz smiled, despite her nerves, and trotted over. 

“Think there are a couple of seats left,” Bill frowned. “Should be just enough room but I’ll be up front with the boys. Need someone with decent taste to play DJ.”

She winked and from behind her, Yaz could hear the sound of Ryan protesting and Graham laughing from behind the wheel. 

“So long as it’s not rap, I’m happy,” she smiled, holding her bag close as she squeezed through the door. 

Despite the early hour, it was chaotic inside. Yaz waved to the familiar faces, sensing that the teams had essentially segregated. Bill had been right - there were a few spare seats at first glance - but as Yaz headed towards the closest one, Rose plonked her bag on it. 

“Sorry, Yaz. Would it be alright if I nabbed this one? Just need to get a bit more sleep.”

Yaz frowned. There was no way Rose could sleep through the noise, but she shrugged and made her way up the narrow aisle to Martha. 

Who did exactly the same as Rose. 

“Ah, I think I might need to stretch my legs a bit. My knee’s playing up.”

This time, Yaz couldn’t help but notice the shift in Martha’s expression. She didn’t look that apologetic and neither, she realised, had Rose. Yaz scanned the remaining seats and realised why. 

There was one seat left. 

One seat that happened to be next to a very much occupied seat.

She glared at Martha and looked back in time to see Rose glance away. 

“I’m going to kill you two,” Yaz murmured, heart starting to race. She wasn’t quite ready for this but Rose and Martha had truly forced her hand. And it didn’t seem like they were the only ones in on the joke - Donna was watching her like a hawk, not even attempting to be subtle about it. Even the noise in the bus seemed to have quietened, but Yaz tried to ignore the fact that most people seemed to be watching her and instead focused on the fact that she had to try and strike up a conversation with Jules. A conversation that everybody would apparently be listening to.

“Mind if I sit here?” she asked, plonking her bag on the floor and waiting for Jules to acknowledge her presence. She had been staring out of the window, unusually quiet. Yaz chalked that up to dark circles under her eyes and the earphones in her ears, which Jules removed as soon as she sensed Yaz’s presence. 

“Oh, sorry, Yaz. You need a seat?” Even her voice was quieter than normal, lacking in her usual vigour.

Jules patted the space next to her and Yaz breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn’t like they had much choice but to sit together, although it hugely helped to know that Jules was happy for her to take the space. 

No sooner had Yaz sat down than the bus started to move. She fumbled for her seatbelt, still half awake, and ended up brushing up against Jules more than she’d have liked. 

“Sorry,” she murmured, feeling flustered. The noise of the engine had encouraged chatter to resume amongst the others and Yaz relaxed slightly, relieved that she was longer the focus of attention. This was only for an hour. On the way back, she’d make sure they didn’t have to sit next to one another, if only so that she could get some peace and quiet. She didn’t mind team banter every now and again, but there was a weird vibe that Yaz couldn’t quite put her finger on. Either that, or she was still paranoid about what had happened at the social. 

“It’s ok,” Jules hummed, watching Yaz with a wry smile. Despite how tired she looked, Yaz couldn’t help but be struck how naturally beautiful she was. On the pitch she only ever saw Jules in passing and she was a blur of arms and legs, but now that they were sitting together, Yaz could regard her from up close. The silence started to drag on, and with it came the urge to fill it, but Yaz had no idea where to start. The last time she’d started to ask questions, Jules had almost instantly shut down. Instead, she glanced down to where their legs were touching as she felt Jules’s thigh brush against her own several times.

“Not very good at sitting still for long,” Jules admitted, putting her hand on her knee in an attempt to stop her leg jiggling. “Sorry.”

“And I’m not very good in the back seat,” Yaz admitted, feeling her stomach churn at the movement of the bus. Graham wasn’t a bad driver; she just got car sick unless she was in the front.

“Oh? Hang on,” Jules said, instantly unbuckling her seatbelt. “Switch with me.”

“It’s ok, honest-”   


“Yaz, switch. I’m not going to let you feel sick.”

Yaz could feel several pairs of eyes on them as they awkwardly shifted seats while the bus was in motion. She’d stepped into the aisle so that Jules could move out but a sharp corner sent her practically flying into Jules’s arms.

A muted cheer went up and Yaz heard the noise but it paled in comparison to the feeling of Jules’s hands grabbing hold of her waist. It was like she could only have one functioning sense at once when she was around Jules. It was infuriating and confusing, to say the least. Like her brain had short-circuited.

“What’s going on back there?” Bill called, twisting in her seat right at the front of the bus. The moment she laid eyes on them, her face fell. “You guys should sit down before Graham hits a speed bump or something.”

Yaz could feel Bill watching them as they separated, and Jules muttered something that she didn’t quite catch. As she slid into the window seat, she was glad that she was more hidden from view but Bill didn’t turn around for several moments after they’d settled.

“Better?” Jules asked, and Yaz nodded. But the longer they avoided the topic of Yaz’s impromptu sleepover, the more uncomfortable she became. She needed a way to bring up the topic without Jules shutting it down.

“Got your pyjamas, by the way,” she blurted, steering straight into the issue she’d so keenly wanted to resolve. 

Out of the blue, she remembered Sonya’s comment.

_ “Whoever he is, he’s got interesting taste in music.” _

“Who’s the band?” Yaz couldn’t help but ask. It was one simple question that seemed relatively safe, and she knew she’d chosen the right path when she saw Jules start to smile. 

“The Wombats. You’re telling me you’ve not heard of them?”

Jules sounded and looked offended but Yaz shook her head, laughing at the name. 

“What kind of band name is that?”

“The very best. Hang on,” Jules held up a finger, reaching for the pocket of her tracksuit bottoms and pulling out her phone. The earphones followed in a tangle and Yaz watched, biting back a laugh, as she attempted to undo the knots.

“I swear I only just put the bloody things in there,” Jules huffed. Yaz watched for several moments as she tried and failed to make progress and without thinking, reached over and tugged at the cabling. 

“Here. I’m good with my hands.”

It was only midway through untangling one of the main knots that Yaz realised what she’d said. Thankfully, Jules kept her mouth shut but Yaz could see her smirk out of the corner of her eye.

“Don’t say a word.”

_ Where had this come from?  _ They’d moved from awkwardness to tentative banter as easily as breathing.

“See?” she said, holding the earbuds up in triumph.

“Yeah, yeah. I got you started though.”

Jules took one of the earbuds and their fingertips brushed in the process, prompting Yaz to drop the other. 

“I thought you were good with your hands?” Jules commented, eyebrow raised as she popped the earphone in her right ear. Yaz picked up the other and ignored the remark as she put it in her left ear. She watched as Jules selected a song and listened carefully as the first song started to play. 

It wasn’t what she’d expected at all and yet, somehow, it was just like Jules. Energetic and silly and uplifting to absorb. Yaz could feel herself smiling, encouraged by the eager grin on Jules’s face. 

“See? Good innit,” Jules shouted over the music. Yaz almost jumped out of her seat when Clara’s head popped up in front of them, a disapproving look on her face.

“You’re shouting,” she said, although Yaz could see that she wasn’t seriously telling them off and her expression softened when she saw what they were doing. “Sorry. Teacher mode,” Clara murmured, returning to her seat as quickly as she’d emerged from it. 

Yaz wondered why she’d changed her tune so quickly but opted not to dwell on it, instead enjoying the simple pleasure of listening to music with someone. It just happened that that person was Jules, and Yaz couldn’t help but contemplate how much that added to her enjoyment of the moment. 

They sat quietly for several songs, not talking, simply listening. The other passengers had settled down and Yaz could see Jules’s nervous tic start to abate as the music worked its magic; her leg stopped bouncing. She chanced a glance sideways when the hand on Jule’s lap turned to one side, lax. Jules was fast asleep, head nodding slightly, and Yaz let herself watch her for a moment. 

Then, they hit traffic. Word made its way through the bus that there had been an accident on the M1 and Yaz knew it had to be bad when Graham eventually turned off the engine. They’d made no progress in ten minutes and although Yaz knew she should be worried about making their game on time, she found herself content just to sit where she was. A gentle nudge on her shoulder startled her but when she turned to see that Jules had fallen asleep on her, she felt herself grow warm inside. It felt a bit strange to see her sleep, never mind to watch her so openly, so Yaz opted to close her own eyes and soak up the sensation instead. Jules might not want to open up to her but on some level she clearly felt comfortable enough being around her.

* * *

“Wakey wakey, sleeping beauty,” Clara sing-songed, and Yaz awoke with a jolt. The earphone had fallen out of her ear and the scenery outside had changed - they’d arrived at the venue, apparently - and Jules was no longer sleeping on her shoulder, much to her regret. Instead, she was having a rather heated discussion with a member of her team across the aisle who was holding their phone aloft. 

“Just...give it,” Jules practically growled, but Yaz could tell she meant nothing by it because all the request did was prompt more laughter. 

“Ugh. Fine. That better not see the light of day, though.”

Yaz was still half-asleep and unaware of the context of the conversation so she opted to ignore it, rubbing at her eyes and stretching her body, letting out a guttural groan of pleasure as the muscles released the tension.

Jules’s head whipped around at the noise and Yaz froze. It had sounded far more sexual than she’d intended. 

“Just...stretching,” she supplied, feeling completely out of sorts and out of the loop. 

“Sounded pretty satisfying,” Jules agreed with a soft smile, getting to her feet and reaching for Yaz’s bag, handing it to her before reaching up to the luggage rack and retrieving her own. The movement made her t-shirt ride up and Yaz ogled the firm abdomen that was revealed. 

“Down, girl,” Clara murmured, equally entranced as she leaned over the back of her seat to watch. 

“Shut up,” Yaz hissed. 

“See you out there,” Jules grinned, giving Yaz a thumbs up - which somehow seemed both out of character and completely on-brand - and leaving them to it. 

“You might want to try and get a hold of that photo before Bill sees it,” Clara said. 

“Photo?”

“Yeah..someone thought you two looked rather cute sleeping together.”

“I...oh, no.”

Despite her fear that Bill would see the photograph, Yaz desperately wanted to see it for herself. 

“I’ll see if I can intercept it before it makes the rounds,” Clara winked, and Yaz breathed a sigh of relief. “And I’ll send you a copy.”

Without waiting for Yaz to reply, Clara slipped nimbly into the aisle and made her way off the bus.

The day was off to a very unexpected start.

* * *

Although they’d arrived late, it transpired that they weren’t as late as Missy’s team - Yaz only caught a glimpse of them arriving an hour later, midway through their game. Although she didn’t know which player Missy was, she could practically sense her from the aura she exuded. Her hair was tied up in a crazy bun, tendrils poking out of it at all angles. Her cheekbones dominated her face but her eyes - clever eyes, Yaz could tell - took in the environment instantly. She looked almost predatory. 

Afterwards, Bill suggested they watch Missy’s team play. 

Yaz found herself watching with bated breath as Missy’s team savaged the opposition. The games were only meant to be friendlies but it was clear they took proceedings very seriously. That, and they played dirty. Yaz had never seen so many yellow cards. Throughout, Missy seemed utterly delighted by the chaos she’d created.

“Missy really isn’t messing around, is she?” Yaz asked Bill as they made their way back to the bus at the end of the day. Graham was ushering players inside, handing out much-needed sandwiches as they clambered on board. 

“She’s trouble,” Bill agreed, but her attention was elsewhere. It was only when Jules joined them that Yaz realised who she’d been watching. 

“Your turn up front,” Bill said, smile fixed in place. “Just don’t let Ryan choose any music.”

“Ah, you know what? I think Yaz should take it.”

Bill did a double take. 

“But...captains get to sit up front on team trips. That’s like, the best bit.”

“And Yaz gets travel sick.”

Yaz felt like she was stuck in the middle of a thinly-veiled argument.

“It’s ok-”

“Honestly, Yaz. I insist,” Jules said, focusing all of her attention on Yaz. She had a way of making people feel special, Yaz realised, like they were the only person in the room. Beside her, she could feel Bill huffing.

Deep down, Yaz wished they could just use the same seats they’d had on the way out. But Bill seemed to want Jules to sit up front. Yaz couldn’t help but wonder if it was a deliberate attempt to stop them sitting together. Regardless, the decision was made for her when Jules nabbed a sandwich from Graham and made her way onto the back of the bus. 

“And you judged me for bringing sandwiches before,” Graham called back to her, but Jules’s response was lost to them, muffled by distance.

Bill rolled her eyes. 

“Alright then, decision made. You should go up front, though, Yaz. I didn’t know you got car sick.”

Bill seemed genuinely apologetic but Yaz brushed it off. 

“Why do you think I insist on driving at work?”

“I thought that was because of my dodgy driving and terrible navigation skills?”

“That too."

“Oi,” Bill grinned, and Yaz was glad to sense some of their usual camaraderie return. 

“I promise I won’t let Ryan choose the music,” Yaz assured her. 

“Alright then,” Bill nodded. Despite appearances, Yaz couldn’t help but wonder if things were truly alright between them. Going by the tension in the air from one simple interaction, Yaz had a horrible feeling that things were about to get a lot more complicated.


	10. Sit-ups

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This actually has a Bend it Like Beckham reference in it! Also - when I said there would be lots of gay drama, I’m not kidding. Lesbians are the most dramatic bitches ever (not saying that everyone in this is one, but…). All will eventually become clear. I did also say this would be a slow-burn ;)  
> I'm trying to update this every 3-4 days to keep me (and hopefully you guys) sane during this weird situation. Fingers crossed I'll be back with the next chapter in a few :)

Ryan was nowhere to be seen at their next training session. 

When Yaz arrived for practice, it was to a rather lost-looking team. Even Bill was late, which was unlike her; Yaz could have sworn she’d seen her leave the station before she herself had. She glanced around and found a potential answer: Amy was also absent. Yaz shivered, pulling the sleeves of her hoodie over her hands. There was a definite chill in the air and she opted to leave the jumper on for the time being, uncertain whether they were even going to be playing.

“What’s going on?” she asked Clara, who was standing with her arms folded, looking distinctly unimpressed. Despite her short stature, she gave off the impression of someone who did not take lightly to being messed about. 

“No idea. Nobody seems to know what’s going on. But we definitely have practice today, ‘cos look - here are the late arrivals.”

Clara gestured across the pitch and sure enough, Bill and Amy were among the stragglers. 

“Sorry, sorry. Got a bit...side-tracked,” Bill smirked, and Yaz heard Amy giggle in response. They were acting like teenagers and suddenly she couldn’t help but feel that Bill was being a little unfair - keeping some kind of relationship with Amy a secret but all the while acting suspicious around any interaction Yaz had with Jules. 

It was starting to grate. 

But Yaz’s mood lifted when Graham made his way over to their team, who had by that point huddled together for warmth like penguins. 

“Ryan’s having to do some last-minute prep for his diploma exam tomorrow so we thought we’d join forces and train together,” he explained, to a chorus of muted complaints and exclamations of surprise. 

“He never told me,” Bill frowned, apparently disappointed that she’d been left out of the loop.

“He didn’t know himself ‘til about an hour ago. He should have texted you, though. Said he didn’t trust me to be the bearer of bad news, which is just charming, really.”

Bill opened up her phone. 

“Ohhhh,” she sighed. “My bad.”

“Bit preoccupied were you, eh, Bill?” Rose nudged her, and Yaz tuned out the noise as she turned to look up the pitch. Just as she’d hoped, Jules was there, leading her team through some warm-up exercises. Yaz watched her openly, no longer worried about being caught out. It felt like they’d crossed some invisible line after the bus trip; and once they’d arrived in Sheffield and she’d returned Jules’s pyjamas, they’d even talked for a few moments. Although the conversation was brief it had felt like a step in the right direction. Quite what direction, Yaz wasn't sure. 

“Want to join us for the warm-up?” Graham suggested, following Yaz’s gaze up the field. “They’ve already started but how’s about you catch up with them?” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

Yaz nodded and set off with decidedly more enthusiasm than the others, only to find she wasn’t quite sure what to do with herself once she arrived at her destination. Jules did a double-take when she saw her leading the charge. 

“Alright, Yaz?” she smiled, then turned to the pink-faced group behind her. “Stop, stop.” She held up a hand to halt the warm-up. Her team-mates fell about in various states of exhaustion.

“Apparently we’re training together tonight,” Yaz said, trying not to sound as excited as she felt. She wasn’t sure why she was suddenly looking forward to practice so much. 

“Is that so? Well, then. Let’s get stuck in. But don’t think I’m going to take it easy on you,” Jules cautioned. Yaz felt a thrill at the idea of proving her own. Sure, they’d played against one another before, but now she’d get a better idea of how Jules trained.

“Really….she’s right,” Donna wheezed, holding onto her hips as she tried to catch her breath. “She’s on one tonight. Can we….have….a break?”

Yaz ignored Donna’s warning and finally shrugged off her hoodie, tossing it to the sideline. She felt goosebumps crop up across the exposed skin of her arms and opted to keep her tracksuit bottoms on until her legs were suitably warm.

“Are you not joining in?” she asked Jules, a challenge in her tone. 

“She’s right, Doc,” Graham supplied, finally catching up with them.

_That nickname again._

“You should really get warmed up, too. Don’t want to see you with any more injuries.”

With that, he rubbed his hands together with delight and Yaz caught Jules’s eye as they tried to read into what he was suggesting. 

“Sit-ups!” he proclaimed. “I want you to pair up with a member of the opposite team. Try and match each other’s pace.”

Yaz mentally groaned. She hated sit-ups with a passion. The grass didn’t look remotely appealing, either, given how cold it was.

“Jules, you and...Yaz, right? You can pair up,” Graham suggested, moving through the others and partnering players who often came up against one another. It was an interesting idea, Yaz had to admit.

“So. You and me, Yaz. Think you can handle it?” Jules drawled, plonking herself on the grass without a second thought. 

“Believe me, I can handle anything you can throw at me,” Yaz replied, after a beat. Jules’s words had prompted a very different kind of mental image that Yaz had to rapidly shelve or she’d be utterly useless for the rest of the evening. 

_Curled around each other, skin on skin-_

“I know,” Jules admitted. “And I’m counting on it. Don’t chicken out on me. I need a good workout.”

Yaz shut down her mental movie to focus on the task at hand. Jules was only talking about exercise. That was all. And given how often they brought out the competitive edge in one another, Yaz sensed that this was going to end painfully. She’d seen how toned Jules was and she had a horrible feeling she’d be in for a tough time. 

She was right. 

After the first ten sit-ups, Yaz started to feel the burn. But Jules powered through them slowly and steadily, not letting up and, by default, not letting Yaz give in either. As they sat up they looked at one another just for a split second, but long enough to gauge how the other was getting on. Watching her face also stopped Yaz’s gaze drifting to Jules’s stomach, which her top was clinging to in all sorts of distracting ways.

As they started to near 50, Yaz caught a different glimpse of Jules’s face, which, despite her clear determination, was starting to pull all sorts of weird and wonderful expressions. Apparently, she found sit-ups just as unpleasant as Yaz did. The thought made her laugh.

“What….ungh, what’s so funny?” Jules panted, bony elbows pointing outwards as she threw herself upright once more. What had started as reasonably elegant movements had become less and less dignified as they both started to feel the strain.

“Your face,” Yaz breathed, “is a picture.”

“Taking that...as a compliment,” Jules grinned cheekily, her face now a pale shade of pink. Yaz could imagine she herself looked equally warm. The cold breeze was cooling the sweat on her brow, which was lucky because even trying to wipe it away could throw her balance off, and Yaz couldn’t risk it. Her pride was at stake.

“Are you just….trying to make me laugh?” Yaz grunted, giving up on the count. They were over 70 now, and in her peripheral vision Yaz could sense the others struggling; various players were lying on the ground, groaning as they recovered. 

Graham made his way over to them. 

“Honestly, you two. I should have known. You really are going to kill each other.”

But his words were lost to the hum of Yaz’s pulse in her ears. Jules wasn’t giving up, and neither was she. Tunnel vision had taken over.

“I’m not stopping,” Jules said, grinning at Yaz. 

“Me neither,” Yaz grinned back breathlessly, still just about keeping pace with Jules. Her abs were killing her and she knew she’d feel it in the morning but there was no way she’d capitulate. Not now. But Graham had other ideas.

“Okay, that’s it! Stop. Both of you.”

Reluctantly, they both ground to a halt and Yaz let herself flop back onto the grass. Her stomach was on fire. She couldn’t see Jules but she could see her knees poking up and hear her catching her breath. 

“This wasn’t actually meant to be a competition,” Graham grumbled. “Since you’ve obviously got too much energy, you can burn it off with a couple of laps around the pitch. Separately,” he added, in a hurry. “That means different directions.”

“Race ya,” Jules chirped up, full of energy. Then, she was on her feet and running to start her laps. Yaz scrambled to her feet, still breathing hard. 

“Did you listen to a word I said?” Graham chided, but Jules dramatically covered her ears with her hands. Yaz laughed breathlessly at her antics and started her own lap in the opposite direction. 

The first time they lapped one another, Yaz realised she’d underestimated the pace. Jules breezed past her, apparently feeling no worse for wear, and so much so that Yaz turned to look at her retreating form to make sure she wasn’t imagining things. 

But she’d not taken care to look where she was going and a dip in the grass sent her tumbling blindly.

“Argh!” she called, feeling her knee twinge as her ankle gave way and she crumpled to the ground. 

“Yaz! You alright?” Graham called, cupping his hands to his mouth. Yaz was at the other end of the pitch, but she could see the others watching from afar. 

She waved in an attempt to alleviate his concerns. 

“Fine!” she called back, although her leg didn’t feel particularly fine. 

“What happened?” Jules asked, trotting back.

She had been the closest person so it made sense that she’d come running over. Martha abandoned her journey when she saw that Yaz was receiving help and Yaz tried to ignore the embarrassment she felt at taking a tumble over something she could have easily avoided if she’d not been too busy staring.

“Wasn’t looking properly and fell right into that hole,” Yaz grumbled, wincing as she eased off her boot. 

“What hurts?” Jules frowned, settling on her knees as she swiftly captured Yaz’s foot in her hand. Yaz inhaled sharply at the gentle touch. “Is it your ankle?” 

Yaz shook her head. “More like my knee.”

“Ah. Mind if I take a look? I can roll your joggers up but it might be easier to take them off if your knee is really sore.”

Yaz nodded mutely, realising she didn’t have much of a choice. And when rolling the material up only served to cause her more pain, she bit her lip and tugged at the waistband. Thankfully she’d opted to wear some shorts underneath; the sweatpants were only for the warm-up. She didn’t like baring her legs more than she had to but Jules was more interested in her knee than in the scar on her thigh.

Yaz bit her lip in suspense as she watched Jules inspect the painful joint. It had already started to swell and Yaz cursed her clumsiness. She was never normally that uncoordinated, but Jules didn’t comment on that, instead asking her a series of questions as she manipulated her knee. 

The feel of her hands touching the sensitive skin made Yaz gasp on more than one occasion but she passed it off as pain. It did hurt, but Jules had a way of easing the pain in a way that seemed almost magical. Instead, Yaz found she was gasping more at the feel of those hands touching her so confidently.

“Sorry, sorry,” Jules murmured, thinking she was causing Yaz discomfort. 

Yaz felt a twinge of guilt. 

“It’s okay, really,” she assured her. “You seem to know what you’re doing. Bumps to the head, twisted knees...” she hedged, wondering if Jules would finally open up. She pictured the photograph on Jules’s bedside table.

“You could say that.”

Yaz tried not to be disappointed at the lack of information forthcoming. Jules seemed more distracted by her task than anything. That line of concentration emerged between her eyebrows and Yaz realised she was more concerned than Yaz herself was.

“What is it you do, Yaz? Keep talking. It’ll keep your mind off things.”

_Off things...like the fact that your hands are on me._

“Police,” Yaz practically squeaked, then cleared her throat. “Well, nearly.”

Jules had the good grace to ignore the change in her tone.

“I thought so. That’s how you and Bill know each other, right?”

The mention of Bill didn’t seem to cause any ill-feeling. Yaz nodded. 

“We’re partners. She’s the reason I’m here, actually.”

“Well then, looks like we owe Bill a thank you,” Jules grinned. Yaz tugged at the blades of grass within reach, suddenly awkward.

As Jules eased Yaz’s leg back to the grass, her gaze drifted up towards her thigh and Yaz resisted the instinct to cover the scar with her hand. She’d got it when she was babysitting Sonya and although the incident hadn’t been particularly traumatic, she was self-conscious about it because it covered quite a large swathe of her thigh. But something about the way Jules regarded her - not with disgust, but with empathy - set her at ease. 

“That looks like it hurt,” Jules frowned sympathetically. Then, almost competitively: “Wanna see mine?”

Yaz had been fully expecting a question about how she’d got the scar but Jules either sensed her apprehension or didn’t want to pry. She nodded, assuming that Jules would discuss the scar on her shoulder but, to her surprise, the other woman instead brought up her right leg and pointed to a thin white line on that knee. 

“ACL. Six months recovery. No football. Drove me barmy,” Jules grinned. 

“Ouch,” Yaz winced. “I can imagine you going stir crazy.”

“Scars are so interesting. They tell a story, don’t they?” Jules smiled, and Yaz noticed her hand drifting up to rub at her neck. Yaz hummed in agreement. More than anything she wanted to know about the one hidden from view but it was clear that the story behind that one wasn’t as straightforward as a football injury. 

“Anyway, I don’t think there’s any permanent damage, you’ve probably just twisted it a bit. But you have to be so careful with knees.”

They looked at each other for a long moment, Yaz’s injury temporarily forgotten. It felt like they were teetering on something but before Yaz could open her mouth, a noise from the pitch interrupted the moment. 

“You guys coming or what?” Bill called over, hands on her hips. The others had rallied and seemed to be ready to play a game.

“Yaz is going to sit this one out,” Jules called back, getting to her feet and then guiding Yaz to hers. Her grip was firm and when she kept a hand around her waist, Yaz almost brushed off the assistance before thinking better of it and allowing Jules to guide her back to the others, ignoring the way Bill watched their progress.

* * *

“How’s the knee?” 

Yaz flexed her leg, sighing as the motion sent a twinge of pain through her nervous system. She sighed as she walked to the passenger side of the car, chucking Bill the keys. 

“Stiff enough that I think it’s actually safer for you to drive, for once.”

“Wow, must be bad,” Bill murmured. “You sure it’ll be okay?”

Yaz grimaced as she settled into the passenger seat. It felt odd to be sitting on the wrong side of the car.

“Yeah. Took some ibuprofen this morning, and Jules told me...gave me exercises to do,” Yaz said, faltering at the mention of Jules’s name. They hadn’t really talked about things; to all intents and purposes, they’d kept work and football separate, but it was hard to do so when they spent so much time together. 

Yaz’s heart sank when Bill next spoke. 

“About that...I saw a photo the other day. From the bus.”

“I haven’t seen it,” Yaz replied, and it was true. But her eyes lit up when Bill retrieved her phone - once again carrying it on shift when she shouldn’t have been - and held it up for Yaz to see. She’d been wondering if the photo had been deleted and although she was gutted it had made its way to Bill, she’d really wanted to see it.

The image was far more intimate than Yaz had been expecting. She felt her mouth form an ‘o’ of surprise as she took in the way Jules had wrapped an arm around Yaz’s waist in sleep. Her own head was resting on Jules’s as they both leaned on each other in the back seat, looking entirely comfortable with one another. To an uninformed observer it looked like they knew each other very well. 

“Is something going on with you two?” Bill asked. “‘Cos you can tell me. I'd rather you told me, to be honest.”

“What?” Yaz murmured, completely distracted by the photo. She longed to take hold of the device and stare at it but after a few more seconds, Bill pocketed it again and Yaz had to make do with the mental snapshot. 

It would certainly prove hard to forget.

“Are you and Jules…” Bill trailed off, pulling a face. The kind of face that left Yaz only one type of response: a gut one. 

“No, of course not.”

Later, she’d regret that wording, but Yaz blundered through, sensing a need to address the elephant in the room. Besides, nothing had happened. Even if she was starting to wonder if she’d like it to. 

“It was an early start, that’s all. We were both tired and there were no seats left, that’s why we were sitting together.” 

Bill sighed heavily, putting the keys in the ignition but not starting the engine. They clearly weren’t going anywhere until this particular topic was put to bed, Yaz mused. She wished she was in the driver’s seat.

“I just don't want you getting hurt,” Bill continued. “There’s a reason she’s obsessed with football, you know. She uses it to get out of her own head. Just look after yourself. I know what she can be like. You get suckered in, ‘cos man….she's like the most appealing person you'll ever meet.”

Her tone was wistful, Yaz realised. Whatever had happened between them was apparently still fresh. 

Bill turned to her then, her expression serious. “But don't be fooled.”

With that, she turned the key and put the car into reverse. 

Yaz was stumped. Even if something had been going on with Jules, it didn’t seem like it should be any of Bill’s business. Things were obviously more complicated than she had realised. Although she wanted more than anything to ask about Amy, Yaz bit her tongue. Bringing that up would only serve to provoke Bill further, and the last thing she wanted to do at the start of an 8-hour shift was make things more awkward. But she also wanted to get the last word in. If Bill was insistent on telling her how she should behave, then she had to at least stand her ground a little. 

“I can look after myself.”

Bill either didn’t hear her or chose not to because she didn’t seem to acknowledge the statement at all. But it made Yaz feel marginally better to have pushed back.

The atmosphere for the rest of the day was strained but after a few call-outs their focus shifted to work, rather than Yaz’s love life or lack thereof, and they managed to keep things light. At some points Yaz even found herself laughing at some of Bill’s more outlandish jokes, and it felt like things were drifting back to normal. But after the shift ended, Yaz was surprised to feel relief that she could get some space from someone who was meant to be her best friend. 


	11. League

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are going to ramp up after this, so I wanted to take the opportunity to name just a few of you who have really kept me going! I honestly don’t think I would have stuck with this without you pushing me onwards and getting me out of a tough patch. You ready? 
> 
> THANK YOU to Amy, Tate, Ripley_7, Leanne, Cissa, Cait (for the dog pictures, they *really* helped me get this chapter out), sunlitroses, and freefallvertigo - by various ways and means you’ve kept me going! And to everyone else reading this, thank you for reading.

The whistle blew and Yaz was not prepared for the onslaught. The number of people lining the pitch was greater than she’d imagined; the pressure she could feel was immense. At the back of her mind she could feel herself crumbling, rather than thriving, under the strain. She was so sure she’d worked past that, and yet the tension in her body suggested otherwise.

Bill and Martha were nearby, she could practically sense them, but Yaz felt utterly alone. And when Jules came running for her…

She couldn’t put up much of a defence.

Jules scored and scored and scored again, prompting increasingly loud roars from the crowd and inspiring a spiral of defeat in Yasmin Khan. All that build up, all that training and commitment, for what? She’d failed. She’d let her team down, she’d let herself down, and worse, she was the laughing stock of the spectators, who were pointing and laughing at her inability to prevent any goals from being scored. Ryan was calling out from the sidelines but she couldn’t understand a word he was saying through the noise, and their attack...well, their attack was nowhere to be seen. They were losing catastrophically and Yaz had done nothing to prevent it. 

The game passed quickly - almost too quickly, out of control - and before Yaz knew it, the whistle was blowing again. Except the noise wasn’t a short, sharp shock, but instead a prolonged drone that warped into the sound of her alarm and Yaz shot out a hand, blearily muting it. 

She lay there for a second, trying to wake up. Her brain was already in overdrive, clearly, but it still took a moment for the anxiety to drain away and let her adjust to reality. 

It had been a dream. But it had felt so real that Yaz could still feel her heart thumping, and...yes, sure enough, when she pulled her arm back under the covers, she was sweating. A nightmare about football. Yaz tutted at herself, relieved that the stress had been imagined but still feeling the aftermath, nonetheless. 

The rational side of her brain kicked in after a few minutes of lying in the dark. Today was a big day, to be certain - but she wasn’t going to be coming up against Jules. Her dream was just that: a dream. But it wasn’t the most auspicious start to the day and Yaz was certain she could still hear the echoes of people shouting her name.

There was a knock at the door. 

“Made some toast for you, Yaz,” Hakim murmured. It was still early and the rest of the house was asleep, but Hakim had got into the habit of waking up early on match days. Even though Yaz had asked him not to come and watch, he still liked to see her off. 

“Thanks, dad,” she replied, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to stomach it but genuinely grateful that he’d made the effort. She wasn’t looking forward to telling him about her plans to move out for this very reason. He seemed to have taken it personally that she’d tried to run away and while her sister would be glad not to have to share the bathroom and her mum would probably be relieved not to have to wash so many uniforms, her dad would be devastated, she knew. The torrent of emotions added to those already mingling in her mind and she pushed herself out of bed. If she kept busy, she wouldn’t have to think too much.

* * *

As much as she wanted to kill some time at home, her dad asked too many questions. With an apology, Yaz opted to head to the pitches early, reasoning that at least if she kept moving, she wouldn’t have time to stop and think. She was glad she had Bill as a partner at work for this very reason because during slow shifts she was sure she’d drive herself slowly mad on her own. And even though she lived at home, it didn’t stop her from feeling lonely. Although she was surrounded by her family, it often felt like none of them really understood her, despite their best efforts.

Ironically, living apart from them might actually make her feel less lonely, Yaz mused as she pulled up to the playing grounds and turned off the engine. 

Dawn had broken but there was still a light frost on the ground and Yaz shivered as she left the warmth of her car, zipping up her hoodie to protect herself a bit better against the cold. She scanned the car park, which was still relatively empty; but by the looks of it, Jules was already there and Yaz saw a couple of her teammates enter a building that ran along one side. The changing rooms, presumably. It was a relief to see she wasn’t the only one who had arrived ahead of schedule, although she was surprised to see Jules there so early. Her timekeeping could be erratic. 

It was entirely possible that everybody was feeling the pressure today, Yaz though. Today was a big day. In order for Yaz’s team to make it to the finals, they had to win their game; Jules’s team also had to lose. Yaz knew the latter was unlikely but she tried to ignore it and focus on the task ahead. Besides, it wasn’t like she’d know until it was all over: both games were to happen simultaneously. She tried to shake off the remnants of her dream, knowing that there would be a bigger crowd than usual, despite the chilly weather and the early start. 

Yaz knew they’d be playing at the same time, against different teams, and knew that had something to do with her nightmare. Today was a big enough day as it was, never mind having the added pressure of another game

With a sigh, Yaz headed inside. She was dressed and ready - all she needed to do was change into her boots and get rid of her outer layers - but she had nothing better to do and it was too cold to sit in the car. 

The layout of the building was completely unfamiliar, though, so Yaz opted to head towards the sound of chatter. It was only when she neared the door that she realised who was talking. 

“Face it, Jules. It’s obvious.”

“If I’ve not noticed, it’s not.”

Donna laughed, and there was the sound of a zipper being undone. 

“No offence, mate, but you’re not always the most observant person.”

“Oi, I will take offence at that, thank you very much,” Jules replied, but Yaz could hear no spite in her tone. If anything, she sounded a little hurt. 

Donna sighed. 

“Be honest with me for a sec. You must have noticed something’s going on?”

Yaz wondered what they were discussing. Whatever it was, it sounded like they were discussing something that had been taking place between other people. With a start, Yaz realised they could be discussing Bill and Amy. It would make sense, given Jules’s past relationship with Bill. Yaz held her breath, knowing she shouldn’t eavesdrop but eager to figure out what they were discussing. It was the most she’d ever heard Jules speak off the pitch about something that wasn’t entirely football related.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Yaz frowned. Jules sounded almost defensive. Perhaps she was upset by the idea of Bill moving on. But the evidence thus far had suggested she was not as upset by things as Bill was. 

“Jules, listen to me. I’m only going to say this once. You like her. You’ll catch up, eventually. I know that brain of yours is big and clever and all that, but it can be a bit slow when it comes to things like this, so do me a favour and listen to me, for once, because I can tell from the look on your face that you just want to argue back. But I ain’t having that, sunshine. This is for your own good.”

Jules had apparently listened to Donna’s advice because there was silence for a beat. 

“I get it. I do. What happened before was tough. I’ve been there myself. Except, well, with a bloke cos…”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Jules interjected impatiently. Yaz bit back a smile. 

“Anyway, what was I saying? Yeah. That’s it. You’ve got to look at what’s right in front of you. Open those eyes of yours and look at something that isn’t the football. You see her often enough as it is but all I’m saying is...just look at her. Properly. The rest of us, we’ve all seen it. Kind of ironic that you don’t, really, given how often you bump heads.”

Yaz felt a pang in her gut. It was much stronger than the other things she’d felt that morning, but far less obvious in some ways; she couldn’t figure out quite what it meant, at first. Then it dawned on her. Perhaps they weren’t talking about Bill. Perhaps they were talking about…

“Yaz! What are you up to?”

Yaz turned on the spot, horrified, to see Bill walking down the corridor. 

She could hear movement in the room behind her but Bill’s chatter cut across the rest of their conversation. Yaz could feel her face burning, knowing that Jules and Donna must have heard Bill shout her name. She hoped she could style it out as just passing the changing room but Bill once again made life difficult. 

“What are you standing there for?”

Yaz murmured something, desperate to get them out of earshot.

“Huh?” Bill frowned, confused. “Where- Yaz, where are you going?” She reached for Yaz’s shoulders and turned her back around. “Changing rooms are ‘round the corner.”

Yaz’s stomach dropped even further. Apparently they were to share a changing room with the other teams. 

“Come on. You excited? Big day today!”

Yaz let Bill talk enthusiastically, entering the changing room without a word in the hope that she could somehow slip under the radar. Jules and Donna looked up as they entered, no longer talking about whatever they’d been discussing previously; they were the only other people in the room. Yaz tried to ignore making eye contact with both of them, which was made easier by the fact that Jules was only in her shorts and a sports bra. Instead, Yaz intently stared at the far wall, zoning in on a space where she could stow her belongings.

Bill lost a little of her verve when she realised who was in the room. Yaz hoped she wouldn’t piece together that she’d been eavesdropping, but it was only a matter of time; Bill was quick. She busied herself with her gear, changing into her boots as quickly as she dared, only fumbling slightly with the laces.

“Good luck today, guys,” Bill eventually said, smile tight. “Not that you’ll need it, I’m sure. Maybe when all this is said and done, we could play bubble football."

“Bubble football? What’s that?” Donna asked, shooting a quick look at Yaz, who shrugged. She also had no idea. 

“It’s when you play a game strapped into a giant inflatable ball,” Jules explained, tugging up her socks over her shin guards. Others had started to trickle in but Yaz could still feel the tension in the room. Even Donna could, because she simply stared between Bill, Yaz, and Jules, ignoring the others.

“Yeah. That’s the one. Means you two,” Bill gestured to Yaz and Jules, “can smack into each other as much as you like and not hurt yourselves.”

Although Yaz was sure there was meant to be some kind of joke in there, it didn’t come across like one. Instead, there was an edge to Bill’s voice that she’d not heard before. 

“Alright. Bill, can we have a word?” Jules asked, taking them all by surprise. Even the other women in the room who weren’t part of the conversation froze for a split second before continuing their preparations. They were just as guilty as Yaz of eavesdropping.

“You’ve had enough words with me,” Bill replied. “They’re usually too little, too late.”

There was a quiet murmur of surprise around the room. Bill really wasn’t holding back but off the pitch, without the guise of so-called friendly competition, it was something else to behold. Something unpleasant. Whatever had happened between the two of them had clearly soured things beyond repair.

Jules flinched and Yaz fought her instinctive response to step in. 

“Alright. I deserve that, Bill. But this isn’t about me.”

Although Jules didn’t look at Yaz, Bill instantly did, and things suddenly clicked into place. Was Jules referring to her? 

Jules’s response seemed to stump Bill and she nodded, letting her lead them out of the changing room. 

“What was that about?” Donna murmured, seemingly shocked. “As far as I know, those two aren’t really on speaking terms.”

“I have no idea,” Yaz murmured, apprehensive now not at the prospect of the game but at what Bill and Jules were discussing. It felt unpleasant to be reminded that although they were exes, they also had a past together. A past that Yaz would never be privy to. 

She sighed as she shrugged off her outer layers, feeling the chill in the air as it seeped through her skin. It helped numb her and she embraced it willingly.

“Don’t worry, Yaz,” Donna said cheerily, apparently picking up on the downturn in her mood. “They’ll sort it out.”

And apparently they did. 

Bill returned, alone, a few minutes later, looking more than a little confused. Donna made her excuses and left, accompanied by several others. The remaining few players were busy getting changed and were doing their best to give them some privacy, Yaz realised, when she saw Clara watching them out of the corner of her eye.

Yaz waited impatiently for Bill to tell her what had happened but she remained quiet. Finally, when they were left alone, she bit the bullet.

“You okay?” she asked. _What happened?_ Was what she really wanted to ask, but this was not the time. She’d have to be patient. Tread carefully. 

“Yeah. You know what...I guess I am,” Bill sighed, finally looking at Yaz, like she’d had to gear herself up for it. “She apologised. Said she wants to turn over a new leaf, whatever that means. I don’t know what’s happened, or why she’s being so nice all of a sudden. And it’s not going to change things overnight, but...I’ve been waiting to hear that apology for long enough.”

Yaz nodded, knowing better than to pry. Whatever was going on very likely had nothing to do with her and everything to do with their relationship. 

“I’m glad,” Yaz eventually said, relieved that she meant it. “Maybe you guys will stop being so horrible to one another on the pitch?”

“Fat chance,” Bill grinned. “She’s got a lot of making up to do before that happens.”

Bill threw her hoodie into her pile of clothes. 

“Come on, let’s go or we’ll be late.”

Yaz knew she should focus on the game at hand but now something new was eating at her. Why had Jules apologised to Bill? Why now? What had changed? And what had she and Donna been talking about?

* * *

Unluckily for Yaz, her dream turned out to be prophetic. Although the team had put up a decent fight, they’d lost, and the disappointment was equally vivid as it had been when she’d first woken up.

From the sounds emanating at the other side of the playing field, Jules’s game was still underway and Yaz dragged her weary legs to go and watch. A couple of other players joined her, equally morose at losing but keen to see the result of the other game. Whatever happened, Jules’s team would still be in the final. 

They arrived just in time to witness Jules score the winning goal from the halfway line, a lucky shot that made Yaz’s jaw drop. It seemed to take even Jules by surprise and she threw her arms up in the air, face lit up with surprise and glee. Within seconds she was swamped by her team-mates as the final whistle blew and despite the fact that her team was out of competition, Yaz was awed and impressed that Jules had scored such a goal. Even though it looked like a trick shot, Yaz had a feeling that sheer skill had had a huge part to play in it because the goalie had been sent scrambling for a far corner of the net.

There was no doubt about it: Jules was the woman of the match and she was hoisted in the air by several of her team, protesting through her laughter. Yaz laughed openly at her expression, and she was still grinning at the display when Jules was finally deposited back on the ground and looked straight at her. 

After a split second, she grinned back. Her grin was still in place when Jules started to walk over and it took Yaz a second to realise that she was headed straight for her. 

She could see Bill and Ryan walking up from the other end of the playing fields and hoped that they’d be too busy catching up on events to notice who she was about to talk to.

“Well done,” Yaz smiled. Jules was still catching her breath from the energetic celebrations. 

“Thank you,” she breathed. “That was a total fluke.”

Yaz shook her head. “Somehow I don’t think so.”

“The universe works in mysterious ways, I suppose. Come on, want to join in the celebrations? I know you guys aren't going to be in the final, but…”

Jules let the sentence trail off, leaving matters open to interpretation. 

Yaz nearly replied in the affirmative, but she could see Bill watching them from the corner of her eye. It would be strange, she thought, to join the celebrations of a team she wasn’t part of. Especially when her own team had lost. But most of all, she knew Bill would find it strange if she went for a drink with Jules and her team.

She shook her head regretfully. 

“Nah, I’d better not. Think we’re going to commiserate instead.”

Jules frowned. 

“It doesn’t have to be alcohol,” she suggested, clearly keen for Yaz to join them. Yaz had to wonder why.

“It’s ok, really," she replied, seeing Bill wander over. "I’d better go.”

Jules seemed truly disappointed.

“Okay. Another time, maybe?”

Yaz couldn’t think of another time they’d have the excuse to meet. Her team weren't in with a chance of winning the league and there were only a few games left. Before long, practice would be stopping for the winter. Disappointment crashed over her like a wave. 

“Maybe,” she murmured. 

“You know, it’s okay for us to be friends, Yaz. Whatever anyone else might say.”

Before Yaz could even think of how to respond, Jules had shrugged and walked away. She instantly knew that particular conversation could have gone down better. Why had she said no? Instead, she’d pushed Jules away when she’d tried to reach out. 

Yaz sighed so loudly that she jumped out of her skin when Clara walked over and patted her consolingly on the back. 

“It’s ok, Yaz. We might not win but we can still train. Means you get some weekends back!”

“Yeah,” Yaz muttered. “Silver linings.”

* * *

Yaz had left in such a hurry that she’d forgotten to pack her boots. It had only clicked the next morning, when her mum had asked if they needed cleaning and had Yaz brought them inside by mistake that Yaz realised she hadn’t brought them home at all. 

It was pouring, a heavy driving rain that soaked her through by the time Yaz got to her car. She hoped her boots were still where she'd left them; although she wouldn’t need them quite so much for the foreseeable future, she’d rather not have to shell out for another pair. When she reached the playing fields, she was unsurprised to find that the car park was empty, apart from one other car. 

A very familiar car. But Yaz couldn’t quite make the details out in the rain and she had to run inside to stop herself getting soaked any further. With relief, she found her boots where she’d left them in the changing room and she shoved them in her boot bag, slinging the strap over her shoulder. 

On the way back out, she relented to her curiosity and looked up the field when movement caught her eye. Someone really was there, and they were practising penalties. 

Yaz squinted through the rain, making out blonde hair and lanky legs. Jules was alone, practising her penalty kicks over and over again. She looked entirely focused on the task at hand and despite netting the ball accurately every single time, she kept at it. Her single-minded determination was clear and Yaz watched her for several minutes, absorbed by the display. Normally, Jules was a blur on the pitch, constantly in motion, but this morning she was almost restrained; channelling only the energy she needed into each and every kick. Her form was impeccable. 

As if she sensed she was being watched, Jules finally took a breather and looked back towards the buildings. If she was surprised to see Yaz, she didn’t show it; rather, she looked openly at her for a long moment, her face giving nothing away. After a while, Yaz realised she should probably move. She was lingering, whereas Jules was actually there for a reason. She gave a half-hearted wave, relieved when Jules returned it and went back to her penalties. 

Yaz was relieved that they could at least still be friendly with one another, if only in passing. But she also remembered something that Bill had told her, once. 

_“She’s so good, though.”_

_“Ha. Only because she doesn’t have a life outside of work, other than football.”_

Yaz couldn’t help but wonder if Jules was just as lonely as she was.


	12. Missy

“Pass me the flour, would you, Yaz?”

Yaz reached for the bag closest without looking at the label and passed it to Najia. She was staring out of the window at the dreary afternoon weather, trying to figure out if she could see the practice field from the kitchen window. They were high enough up, and facing in the right direction, but Yaz struggled to make out any landmarks that might provide a hint to its location. 

“That’s sugar, love.”

“Hmm?”

Yaz pulled herself out of her daydream, turning to see Najia looking at her with bemusement. 

“You passed me caster sugar.”

Yaz looked at the bag in Najia’s hands and then at the counter, which was covered in an array of baking ingredients. Her mum had insisted she help bake a birthday cake for Sonya, “because she was at a loose end”, but in reality Yaz knew her mum was worried about her. She felt guilty for being so distracted. 

“Sorry, mum. Just a bit tired is all. Long week.”

“It’s probably a good thing those football sessions are drawing to a close,” Najia hummed, swapping the sugar for flour and starting to weigh it out. A cloud of white puffed up from the measuring bowl and Yaz leaned on the counter, content to watch her mum in action. She didn’t really need Yaz’s help. “It sounds tiring. Especially when you’ve got so much to do at work. At least you can save your energy for that, now.”

“We still have a game left, mum,” Yaz sighed, trying not to lose patience. Najia had never been a fan of Yaz playing football. “But the best we’ll place is fifth.”

“That’s great, love,” Najia commented absentmindedly, reading the scales and topping up the mound of white powder. 

“It’s alright.” Yaz looked up at the kitchen clock and was startled to see it was already 2pm. Jules’s game would be kicking off in an hour. 

Seconds later, her phone buzzed in her pocket and Yaz retrieved it, eager for any kind of distraction. 

_Want to go watch?_

It was Clara, who was apparently just as keen to go and see the game as Yaz was. The invitation was a welcome surprise and Yaz weighed up her response for roughly three seconds before replying in the affirmative. It might have been odd to go on her own, but if someone else had suggested it then she’d be foolish to miss it. 

_Yeah! Need a lift?_

Clara replied instantly.

_I’ll get Danny to drop me off. See you in 30?_

Yaz replied and pocketed her phone, wondering how she could make her excuses to leave. 

“Everything alright?” Najia asked, starting to combine the flour and eggs. 

“Yeah. Just...would you mind if I went out for a bit?”

Najia frowned. “I was hoping you could help with this, love.”

“You’ve got it all under control, mum. I promise, I’ll be back in a couple of hours. I just...need to pick up a present for Son.”

“Oh, in that case, you’d better go,” Najia gestured towards the door with her head. “You’ve left it a bit late, though, love.”

Yaz bit her tongue. Sonya’s present was already wrapped and ready in her bedroom but she wasn’t going to tell her mum that. 

“I know. So I’d better get a move on.”

Yaz tried not to snap but she was desperate to leave and the last thing she needed was her own mother interfering. Part of her impatience was grounded in guilt - she hated lying - but her mum wouldn’t understand where she was going, or why. The moment Yaz stepped out of the front door she felt like a weight had been lifted and she tried not to hurry down to her car but excitement propelled her onwards. 

She made it to the pitch in record time. 

It was strange to be standing in among the crowd and Yaz tried not to feel disheartened by the fact that she wasn’t playing. It would be interesting to watch Jules as a true spectator, which was exactly what Clara said when they found one another.

“Picking up tips?”

“Perhaps,” Clara grinned. “We’re a bit different in how we play but I also want to see how she gets on against Missy. To be honest, I’m glad we’re not playing her team this time around. There’s something a bit...unnerving about them.”

Yaz had to agree when she saw Missy’s team break up their pre-game huddle. She watched as Missy directed them to their positions, clearly taking her role as team captain seriously. Jules, on the other hand, was busy giving everybody high fives and boosting morale. They couldn’t have been more different. 

The whistle blew. Yaz didn’t recognise the referee, a slightly gormless looking man who looked more than a little intimidated by Missy. 

“She’s up to something already. Look,” Clara said, pointing out the woman in question. Yaz could see Missy watching Jules like a hawk. 

She shivered at the predatory look, wrapping her arms more tightly around herself. In her hurry to leave, she’d only brought a thin hoodie and her leather jacket, which was fine if she was moving around but she’d be glued to the spot for the next 2 hours. 

Fortunately, Jules kept her occupied. Yaz essentially disregarded the other players as she watched Jules at work, calling directions to her teammates when she wasn’t in possession of the ball and when she was….

Yaz struggled to tear her gaze away. Even when Jules didn’t have the ball, Yaz found herself watching her. There was something magnetic about Jules’s presence on the pitch and Yaz knew she wasn’t the only one who was hypnotised. Clara kept gasping and making comments at every tackle, every touch of the ball, every goal assist. Jules moved like clockwork and Yaz wondered why she thought they’d ever had a chance of beating her. 

Not that that really mattered, anymore. Any competitiveness she’d felt had fallen by the wayside as she took pleasure in simply watching a gifted player at work.

But it wasn’t just the spectators who were captivated. Missy was practically fixated on Jules. She’d started to shadow her around the pitch, an unusual strategy to say the least. It meant she was essentially glued to Jules’s side, a fact she seemed to take great pleasure in judging by the grin on her face. It wasn’t a happy grin, though; it gave Yaz the creeps, like she was up to no good.

She somehow knew the other team would play dirty and once she realised what Missy was up to, she didn't take her eyes off her for a second. She also knew Jules could hold her own, but Missy seemed hell-bent on winning this game.

Yaz worried at the skin of her thumb with her teeth. Jules would be fine.

_Right?_

When the first half passed without incident, Yaz breathed a sigh of relief and watched as Missy gathered her team once more. While Graham calmly handed out drinks, Missy was barking orders left, right, and centre. She seemed to be captain and coach all in one.

“Can you imagine Ryan talking to us like that?” Clara snorted, rolling her eyes at Missy’s antics. “I’m pretty sure even Bill would rip him a new one.”

“She would,” Yaz frowned. “Why do they put up with that?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. But whatever she’s doing, it’s working. If they win this, they’re in with a chance of winning the whole damn thing.”

Yaz clenched her fists at her sides. The stakes were high and she didn’t want Missy’s team to be in with a chance of winning. But neither team had scored; Missy’s tactics thus far seemed to be aimed at preventing Jules from getting the ball, never mind scoring goals. But Yaz had a feeling things were going to change in the second half and was proven right within minutes. 

Missy’s team had started to play a far more physical game, executing ill-advised tackles that the referee was struggling to keep up with. Yaz could feel her heart in her throat when Jules got hold of the ball because whenever she did, she was in the firing line. Not that she seemed to be remotely phased by the added pressure, but as time passed and the tackles became more aggressive, even Jules was starting to show the strain. The other captain had got under her skin and while they were waiting for a throw-in, Missy saw her chance and struck. 

As soon as the ball was in the air, Missy ignored it in favour of turning and brutally shoving Jules to the ground, sticking out her foot for good measure so that she stood little to no chance of remaining upright. Jules had been so focused on the ball’s trajectory that she hadn’t expected to be knocked to the ground and she fell hard, landing awkwardly without any time to break her fall. 

Clara swore beside her and Yaz bit her lip so hard she drew blood, but the referee hadn’t even noticed. She held her breath, waiting for Jules to get to her feet, but she stayed down. Yaz’s fear had been proven right: Jules had been a threat to Missy’s victory and she’d just taken her out of the equation.

Before she realised what she was doing, Yaz was jogging onto the pitch, approaching the huddle that had gathered around Jules. She could just about make out Graham in the midst of them, talking quietly but urgently to his star player. Safe in the knowledge that someone was at least looking after her, Yaz saw red. She was entirely certain she’d never been so angry in her life and the speed with which she’d arrived at this degree of rage would have been frightening if the recipient hadn’t been so thoroughly deserving of it.

“What the fuck were you playing at?” she shouted, storming right up to Missy, who attempted a poor approximation of shock. Yaz was frustrated to realise that she was shorter than the other woman but she hoped that her ire more than made up for the size difference.

“It was an accident,” Missy trilled, peering over Yaz’s shoulder at the huddle. She didn’t seem remotely contrite and Yaz wanted more than anything for her to get away from Jules.

“No it bloody well wasn’t,” she retorted, feeling her blood boil. Missy seemed to be delighted by the fact that Jules was injured. “I was watching. You took her out. Deliberately.”

She felt hands grabbing at her arms, then, and then they were pulling her back. She resisted them for a second and then more hands were on her arms and she deflated. Anger would get her nowhere and all it had done was mask her latent worry about Jules. 

“Don't worry, Yaz. I'll take care of this,” Donna said, and one look at her face made Yaz realise that she really would. “Come on. You’re not even meant to be on the pitch.” 

Donna was looking at her in a way that took Yaz by surprise. She seemed sympathetic. “Go and sort her out.”

Yaz didn’t need telling twice; she nodded, and made her way back to Jules. The huddle had dispersed and the referee - Rory, his name badge said - was writing in his notebook. Yaz knew she’d bite his head off if she even tried to speak to him so instead she zeroed in on Jules, who was by that point sitting up. 

“It’s fine,” she said, gritting her teeth as she clutched at her shoulder. Yaz felt queasy when she realised it looked out of place, like it had collapsed. “I’ll be fine.”

“No you won’t,” Yaz said, and Jules looked up in shock. Her face was pale, pinched by pain, but she was clearly surprised to see Yaz there. 

“What are you doing here?” she asked, clearly confused. Yaz didn’t know how to answer that question, but she did know how to take charge of this particular situation. She turned to Graham.

“Have you called an ambulance?” she asked him, already reaching for her phone. 

“No ambulances!” Jules protested, struggling to get to her feet and making a surprising amount of progress, unassisted. “It’s really not that- argh!”

The momentum made her topple and she stumbled slightly. Yaz instantly stepped in, moulding herself to Jules’s uninjured side to help keep her upright and weaving a supportive arm around her lower back. By now, the other players had dispersed to give them some space but Yaz paid them no mind. She could hear Donna letting rip in the background and that made her smile, despite the circumstances. Jules hissed in pain beside her as she adjusted her stance, letting her good arm come to rest on Yaz’s back.

“She won’t allow that,” Graham said. “But I think that shoulder definitely needs to be checked out.”

Yaz could feel Jules shaking her head but she agreed entirely with Graham. Although she was good at masking the pain, Yaz could feel Jules trembling with it. 

“No excuses,” she insisted. “You’re coming with me.”

* * *

“This isn’t your police car, is it? No lights and sirens?”

The journey to A&E had been so quiet that Yaz startled slightly when Jules started to speak. Adrenaline was making her jumpy. 

“Sadly not.”

“You're driving really fast, though. Pretty sure you need either lights or sirens for that.”

Yaz looked at the speedometer and realised that Jules was right. She was 10 miles over the limit and she eased her foot away from the accelerator, feeling sheepish. She was panicking, clearly, but Jules had remained calm and Yaz forced herself to follow suit. It wouldn’t help if she crashed the car en route. 

“Sorry,” she murmured, sighing heavily. She just wanted to get Jules seen to as quickly as she could. She cast a look sideways and despite how uncomfortable Jules looked, she was as cool as a cucumber. 

“You're all good, Yaz. Don't worry.”

The drive seemed to take far longer than it actually needed to and Yaz nearly lost her patience while she struggled to find a place to park but Jules was a calming presence and she did her best to remain level-headed. Finally, after ten minutes spent circling the car park, Yaz pulled into a spot. 

“You could have just dropped me off, you know,” Jules commented, grimacing as Yaz helped her out of the car. 

“Somehow I don’t think I’d trust you not to go home,” Yaz replied. It hadn’t even occurred to her that she could leave Jules alone and the idea of Jules sitting alone in A&E made her too sad to even contemplate it fully. 

The walk to the emergency department was slow-going, and Yaz kept a careful eye on Jules, who insisted on walking unaided. Apparently she was stubborn but rather than finding it irritating, Yaz didn’t take it personally; she knew she’d probably do the same. She had persisted in carrying Jules’s kit bag, though, which Graham had helpfully passed to her before they’d left the pitch.

“Jules? What are you doing here?” the receptionist asked as they approached the desk, and Yaz made a noise of surprise at the fact Jules had apparently been here before, and often enough that she was recognisable. Surely one person couldn’t go to hospital that much?

“Little incident playing football. Something went a bit wonky with my shoulder,” Jules sighed, providing her details and gesturing Yaz over to a seat on the far side of the room.

They sat quietly for a moment while Yaz figured out what to say. She could sense that Jules was in pain because she kept shifting every few minutes. That, or she was unused to sitting still for that length of time.

“So...how come the receptionist knows you? Are you an A&E regular or something?” Yaz asked, trying to keep her tone light. She knew that Jules could be a bit prickly with questions but she also knew that neither of them were going anywhere for the next couple of hours at least. 

“She knows me because I used to work here. Left about a year ago, actually. I’m not particularly good at staying put.”

Yaz tried not to leap in with the questions that immediately popped into her mind. It was the most Jules had spoken openly about herself regarding something that wasn’t football. To her surprise, Jules kept talking after a moment, unprompted.

“I spent a lot of time in hospitals as a kid. Always getting into scrapes. Like a cat with nine lives, but I’ve lost count, now.”

The words made Yaz picture a younger Jules, complete with grazed knees and baggy socks. Not too dissimilar from how she looked now, really.

“Is that why you became a doctor?” Yaz asked.

Jules winced as she shifted again and without thinking, Yaz reached for her hand, hating to see her in pain. 

“You can squeeze my hand if it helps,” she explained, trying to ignore how nice their hands felt pressed together. Jules exerted a gentle pressure but even when the next wave of pain struck, she didn’t tighten her grip. Her breathing evened out as the pain receded and Yaz felt herself relax. 

“You know when I hurt my knee, you told me to talk. Take my mind off things. We can talk about anything you like, but it really does help,” Yaz encouraged, wondering if she was pushing her luck. It wasn’t like Jules could go anywhere, but her questions were innocent enough. 

“I became a doctor because I wanted to help,” Jules said, her expression melancholy. Her fingers tightened briefly around Yaz’s as she braced herself against another wave. But she took Yaz’s advice and carried on talking. Yaz squeezed back encouragingly. She knew how hard it could be to open up to someone, how vulnerable it could feel. 

“I wanted to help," she repeated, like she was gearing herself up. Or working through her thoughts. It struck Yaz that perhaps Jules didn't talk about herself all that much. "But I didn't have the money for university and I couldn't choose what to study. I wanted to travel more than anything, so I got bursary, figured I could try and do a bit of everything.”

“A bursary?” Yaz tried to piece together what Jules was telling her but vital information seemed to be missing. She couldn’t help it; her innate curiosity and need to know more were warring with the other side of her that acknowledged Jules had very obvious barriers. If those barriers were to come down, now seemed as good a time as any.

“Army bursary.”

Yaz instantly thought of the picture on Jules’s bedside table but knew better than to ask about it. She waited for Jules to continue and her patience paid off. It was like turning on a tap: once Jules started to talk, the flow of information continued in a steady stream. 

“I'd never wanted to fight. If anything, I regret doing it. I hated the army. I hated being a soldier. I've been running from it ever since.”

Jules suddenly let go of her hand to swipe at her eyes and Yaz belatedly realised she might have pushed too hard. Seeing Jules upset was almost more than she could bear and Yaz knew she had to try and change the subject she’d led them onto. She reached for Jules’s hand again, the only lifeline she could offer. But the pretence of simple comfort was long gone. They’d waded into far deeper waters than Yaz had expected.

“Is that why you're a good team player?” she asked, trying to steer them away from anything that might upset Jules further. 

Jules huffed out a laugh. 

“It's why I'm captain. I don't like being told what to do. Had more than enough of that.”

“I can imagine,” Yaz smiled. “So why the football?”

“I started back in...back in training. When I left, it gave me an outlet for…”

Jules trailed off and Yaz knew they were veering back into risky territory. 

“It’s good stress relief,” she agreed, and Jules relaxed. “Although there are probably easier ways to relieve it.”

Before Yaz could continue, they were interrupted by a familiar voice.

“Yaz? Jules, what happened to your shoulder?” Martha asked, instantly spotting the problem.

“Oh, thank god,” Yaz breathed, relieved to see a friendly smile. “Missy happened, that’s what.”

Martha pulled a face and beckoned Jules to one of the assessment rooms, and Yaz settled in for the wait. But before she left, Jules turned to Yaz, looking almost sheepish. 

“You don’t have to stay, you know. This could be a while.” 

“I’ll try and be as quick as I can,” Martha chipped in, then added: “but maybe you could swap numbers just in case? Yaz will give you a lift home, I’m sure.”

Yaz hadn’t planned on going anywhere but she leapt at the chance to exchange numbers. Jules nodded after a moment, giving Yaz the permission she needed to dig out her phone and input the passcode. 

Judging by Martha’s expression, she knew exactly what she’d been playing at because she hid a smile behind her hand as Yaz put her number in Jules’s phone and dialled it. Satisfied that the call had safely gone through, Yaz slipped the phone back into Jules’s bag and handed it to Martha. 

“I’ll see you in a bit,” she assured them, waiting til they were out of sight before she pulled out her phone to see the missed call. 

She had Jules’s number. 

She also had missed calls from her mum. Three, to be precise. Yaz looked at the time, dismayed to see it was already six o’clock. The signs on the wall said that no phone calls were to be made and Yaz wasn’t going anywhere until she knew Jules was alright. A text would delay the third degree, at least. 

_Sorry, mum. Bumped into a friend and went for a coffee. I won’t be too much longer._

It was the second time she’d lied to her mum that day but she didn’t have much choice. While she waited for her mum to reply she killed time with her phone, stopping herself short of googling Missy. The less she thought of her, the better. Her reaction to Missy’s behaviour had surprised her but she knew she’d done the right thing by taking Jules to the hospital. She texted Clara to let her know how things were going, and moments later the team Whatsapp group was updated with the news. 

Clara hadn’t mentioned that Yaz had taken Jules to A&E but Yaz knew that would come out in due course. Bill replied to the group message instantly, clearly concerned. Yaz hesitated about whether to reply but Clara saved her, repeating what Yaz had told her via private message. 

Yaz felt like she was constantly putting out fires but she knew she’d have to actually tackle them properly before long. Right now, though, she had more important things to worry about. It was strange how one event could make everything else seem so much less relevant.

Time seemed to disappear while she was waiting but Martha was true to her word; Jules returned less than an hour later, arm safely encased in a sling. 

“Told you I’d be quick,” Martha smiled, but Jules didn’t seem too happy with the outcome. 

“You okay?” Yaz asked, getting to her feet and retrieving Jules’s bag from Martha.

“One broken collarbone,” Martha supplied, “and a prescription for some painkillers.” She handed the paper to Yaz.

“And 6-8 weeks of this,” Jules grumbled, nearly lifting her arm up to demonstrate and thinking better of it when Martha tutted.

“Yeah, unfortunately that does mean no football,” Martha said. “And I really, really do mean that, Jules. I’m sorry, but you’ll be missing the final.”

Jules didn’t say anything but Yaz could see she was crestfallen. 

“Oh,” she murmured sympathetically. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s ok,” Jules sighed. “To be honest, I think I just want to go home.”

“Of course,” Yaz agreed readily. “Let me help you.” She stepped closer, hand braced gently on her back as Jules walked towards the exit. 

“Thanks, Martha. For everything,” Yaz said. 

Martha smirked.

“Oh, you definitely owe me one.”

* * *

The walk back to the car was quiet; the evening had well and truly drawn in by the time they left the hospital and the temperature had dropped substantially. Jules shivered; she was still in her kit, legs exposed to the bitter chill.

“Hold on,” Yaz insisted, removing her jacket, then her hoodie. “Think you’ll be alright if I put this over the top?

“I’m not cold. It’s ok,” Jules protested. 

She wasn’t very good at accepting help or showing weakness, Yaz thought. But she’d clearly hoped that Yaz would stay and wait for her, even if she hadn’t wanted to say it outright.

“You are,” Yaz insisted. “I can see goosebumps.”

Jules sighed, unable to deny simple physiology. “Ok. I’m a little cold,” she admitted, and Yaz claimed her victory with grace.

“There, was that so hard?” Yaz queried, draping her hoodie carefully across Jules’s shoulders. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. “Just until we get you to the car and get the heating turned on.”

Jules was quiet for the journey back, staring out of the window as Yaz drove her home. 

“I’m pretty sure I remember where you live, but point me out if I get this wrong,” Yaz said, hoping for a response. But Jules had completely withdrawn within herself, and by the time they pulled up at her flat block, she was fast asleep. Apparently the painkillers Martha had given her were nice and strong. 

“Jules?” Yaz called, scared to jostle her too much in case the motion jarred her shoulder. 

“Hmm?” 

Jules blinked blearily. The orange glow of the street lights made her look almost alien; her cheekbones were so defined that Yaz found herself staring at them. 

“You’re home.”

Jules sighed, stretching without thinking and then groaning loudly when she remembered why that was a bad idea. 

“Careful,” Yaz chided, wondering if Jules should be left to her own devices. But it wasn’t like she could stay; Jules didn’t seem to want company and she knew her mum was expecting her home at any minute. That didn’t stop Yaz from feeling torn about what to do. She wanted more than anything to stay and make sure Jules was alright. She watched mutely as the other woman stubbornly opened the door. 

“I’ll see you around?” Yaz offered, trying not to worry. She certainly wouldn’t be seeing Jules at practice, and consoled herself with the fact that she at least had her number.

“Yeah,” Jules sighed wearily, clearly drained. “See you around, Yaz.”

With that, Jules walked away, bag strap trailing from her good hand. Yaz waited until she was long out of sight before she started the engine and drove off into the night. 


	13. Bill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...this is about 4500 words of pure dialogue, which I dread writing. And a lot of introspection, which I'm sure you're familiar with from my fics! Apologies in advance :')

Yaz’s phone was burning a hole in her pocket. She’d managed to avoid the temptation to text Jules so far, but after three days of no contact, she could feel her resolve crumbling. More and more often, she wondered how Jules was. The last time she’d seen her she’d seemed completely disheartened, in pain, and alone. 

Despite being the person who had taken Jules both to the hospital and home afterwards, Yaz knew they weren’t quite at the stage where she could just show up at her flat unannounced. They’d made substantial progress since their first encounters on the pitch but if Yaz took a step back and tried to inspect the situation from an outsider’s perspective, it would have been a bit strange for her to be so forward. The last thing she wanted was to freak Jules out.

Three days, though...three days without any communication was long enough. On her drive to work that morning, Yaz had mentally drafted and re-drafted several messages, planning to send one just before her shift so that she wouldn’t be tempted to check her phone for the rest of the day. Even then, she knew the thought of Jules replying was going to drive her to distraction, but at least work would give her something else to think about. 

When the moment came, Yaz opted to disregard all of her carefully planned messages and just wing it. Overthinking this was going to make the sentiment come out even more stilted, and she didn’t want to make things weird.

_Are you okay? Do you need me to get anything for you? Or like...open any jars?_

Yaz sent it before she chickened out, breathing a sigh of relief that she’d finally crossed that bridge. And then she kicked herself, because the message seemed far too blase, borderline unconcerned. Yaz wondered when this urge to self-analyse had started because she never second-guessed herself quite this much; if anything, she prided herself on sticking to her guns, even if she sometimes lacked the initial confidence to stand up for herself. She was working on it, thanks in no small part to her experience playing on the team.

But Yaz had googled how to manage a collarbone fracture and she knew for a fact that Jules was going to be finding life difficult with one arm out of commission. 

She pulled out her phone again, firing off another message that she hoped would help cheer Jules up, instead.

_I know it sucks that you’re missing the final game but you could always watch from the sidelines with me?_

This time, the sound of the message sending left Yaz with an empty feeling in her stomach and she shoved her phone inside her locker, cringing at herself. It was like she’d said farewell to any sense of self-preservation with those few words. Yaz tutted at herself for overthinking things just as Bill walked in. 

“You okay there, Yaz?” she asked, picking up on her mood instantly. 

“Yeah,” Yaz exhaled, casting her a quick smile before she placed the rest of her personal items in her locker. She dug around for the fleece she kept inside; they were going to be on the beat today, which she was grateful for because the exercise would help her sleep, but it was also freezing cold.

Bill was quiet while she sorted out her own gear. 

“Bit messed up, what Missy did,” she finally said, and Yaz was surprised to see that Bill seemed more than a little upset. 

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Sneakiest thing I’ve ever seen, shoving her when she thought nobody was watching.”

Yaz could still see the moment in her mind’s eye and it disgusted her. She thought briefly of the messages she’d just sent, wondering if Jules had read them. _It was still early. She might be asleep._

“Sneakiest thing you’ve ever seen?” Bill asked, puzzled. Then it clicked. “You were there.”

Yaz felt the blood draining from her face. Such an obvious slip-up; she’d hoped to somehow let Bill know her involvement in a way that meant breaking the news more gently. 

A sudden noise broke the moment as several of their night shift colleagues entered the room, laughing about a particularly raucous Christmas party that they’d had to attend to.

Wary of their unintended audience, Yaz nodded towards the door.

“Come on, I need a coffee. And you look like you need one as badly as I do.”

* * *

Takeaway cups in hand, Yaz concentrated on the feeling of warmth that was gradually restoring feeling to the tips of her fingers. Her ears were cold, though, as well her nose, and she sniffed experimentally to see if she could feel it. But if Bill was bothered by the weather, she didn’t show it. She’d been quiet on their walk to the coffee shop, which worried Yaz more than anything. Bill was never this quiet. 

Yaz was trying to figure out where to start when Bill eventually spoke. 

“So, go on then. What happened?” 

Yaz took a breath. 

“I was helping my mum at home and Clara texted, asking if I wanted to go watch-”

“I don’t care why you were there,” Bill interrupted, but Yaz didn’t believe her for a second, and flinched at her tone. 

“Okay. Well, Missy’s team were playing dirty. I’ve never seen anything like it, to be honest. The ref was useless. In the second half they started to get even more aggressive, making dodgy tackles whenever they could.”

“Sounds about right,” Bill scoffed, taking a sip of her coffee. She still wasn’t really looking Yaz in the eye but they kept walking, letting the caffeine kick in while the world woke up around them. People were walking to work through the city centre and they joined the crowd. 

“When everyone was watching a throw-in, she zeroed in on Jules. Shoved and tripped her to the ground so hard that she didn’t even have a chance to break her fall.”

Bill grimaced and Yaz knew it wasn’t at the coffee. But she continued to listen, and Yaz ploughed on. She’d been nervous about telling Bill what happened but she knew the worst was yet to come because Bill would certainly have questions about what happened next. 

“I took her to the hospital.”

Bill did a double-take. “You? How come?”

Yaz shrugged. “Things were taking too long. I had my car, I wasn’t playing...she could stand. It was the quickest thing to do.”

To Yaz’s immense relief, Bill nodded. Then she wondered what she’d been so anxious about. She’d done nothing wrong, but Bill’s response was making her anxious for entirely different reasons.

“You did the right thing, Yaz. Thank you.”

“Martha was at the hospital and she patched her up. Sent her home.”

“With you?”

Yaz nodded. There was no point in lying and besides, she’d done what any decent person would have done. But Bill’s curiosity about the order of events was starting to make her wonder why she was so concerned. It made sense that she’d be upset at a deliberate attack on someone she knew, but Bill’s reaction seemed disproportionate given that the person in question was her ex-girlfriend, someone she’d previously been so openly critical of. 

Then it well and truly dawned on Yaz that Bill was not over Jules. The idea had been niggling at her for weeks, thanks to strange comments and looks that had made her uneasy, but at the time she’d chalked that up to Bill harbouring negative sentiments towards Jules and concern for Yaz’s wellbeing. More recently, though, she’d realised that Bill had been acting strangely possessive over her ex. Yaz’s suspicions were confirmed when Bill continued to dig. 

“Did you stay?”

Yaz laughed, the sound forced, but she was beyond caring. She wanted to ask Bill what her staying had to do with anything, but she also didn’t want to get into a petty argument at the start of their shift. 

“Why the third degree?” she asked instead, firing a warning shot when really, she desperately wanted to call Bill out on her bullshit. “No, I didn’t stay, actually. I dropped her at home and that was it.”

Bill sighed, rubbing at her eyes. She really did seem tired and Yaz wondered if she’d been dwelling on recent events just as much as she had. She felt a flicker of empathy and made a conscious decision to tread carefully. Bill was still her friend, and she was obviously struggling as much, if not more, than she was. 

“She never lets anyone into her flat, you know. Took us about six dates to get there.” Bill sounded bitter, and Yaz bit her tongue. Bill had no idea that she’d already been inside Jules’s flat, albeit under less than ideal circumstances. That morning had lingered in Yaz’s mind ever since, and not because of the hangover. Judging by the lack of personal effects on display, Yaz’s impression had been that Jules liked to keep things private and Bill’s admission aligned with her hunch. 

“Like I said,” Yaz repeated, trying to drive the message home. “She just got out of the car and I left. I didn’t go in.”

Bill finally turned to look at her and the expression she wore was so raw and open that Yaz steeled herself for what was to come. This was not going to be pretty. Bill was always blunt about how she felt, but it was never directed at Yaz. Not like this. If anything, Bill seemed more sad than angry or bitter, almost resigned to the fact that things were happening outside of her control. 

“But you wanted to, didn't you? You wanted something to happen,” Bill insisted, pushing for an admission. _An admission of what? Guilt? Feelings?_ Yaz knew she had to choose her words carefully. 

“I don't know,” she admitted, and that much was true: Yaz wasn’t sure what she wanted. She’d come to the realisation that her feelings for Jules were probably a bit more intense than they were for anyone else she’d consider an acquaintance, never mind a friend. But quite what she wanted to do with those feelings was also complicated by the woman standing next to her. 

“Yaz, I think you like her.” Bill stared into the distance as she took a long swig of her coffee, her expression hard to read. Just hearing the words being said aloud by someone else - Bill, of all people - made Yaz falter a little. She’d not admitted the thought to herself; somehow, hearing someone else say it made it suddenly feel far too real. 

“Our friendship comes first,” Yaz replied, trying to inject some conviction into her tone. Bill was her best friend and she knew that much; she didn’t want to jeopardise their friendship if she could avoid it. But even as Yaz said the words, she knew that putting their friendship first might not actually be what she wanted to do. Jules’s face flickered into her mind and caused such a visceral reaction that Yaz stopped walking for a second. Bill didn’t seem to notice, though, partly because Yaz’s sentiments had unintended consequences. 

“Ah. Talking of...I’ve been a bad friend to you, Yaz. Not in any ways you might think,” Bill rushed to reassure her, frowning when she realised that Yaz had stopped a few paces behind her. She waited for Yaz to catch up before she continued. “But there’s something quite big. Something I’ve not told you about, and I’ve been meaning to, I really have.”

Yaz was relieved by the change in subject and despite the profession of guilt, Bill seemed to be happy to move on, too, judging by the smile tugging at her lips.

“You and Amy?” Yaz asked, smiling at the surprise evident on Bill’s face. 

“What? You knew?” Bill was shocked. Then she started to laugh. “Hard to keep a secret from that team.”

“Well yeah. That, and I walked in on you in the toilet together, weeks ago.”

“Oh,” Bill mouthed. “Sorry. I really have been meaning to tell you, I just...couldn’t quite find the right way. Or the right time.”

“It’s okay,” Yaz smiled, genuinely happy for her friend. “I do wish you’d told me rather than having to see you both with your tongues down each other’s throats, but…”

“Yeah, yeah.” For the first time since Yaz had known her, Bill seemed genuinely embarrassed. “I just didn’t want to jinx it. What happened with Jules really fucked me up. And I wanted to make sure you don’t get hurt like I did.”

And there it was, back to Jules yet again. Despite her best intentions, Yaz was starting to lose patience. 

“You keep saying this, Bill, but I can look after myself, even if nobody seems to believe me,” Yaz huffed. “Even if I do still live with my parents, I’m old enough to know what I want. And for the first time in a long time, I actually feel happy. I love playing in that team and I have you to thank for it. Everything else...I just have to take it as it comes. You know?”

Bill nodded. Of all the people Yaz knew, Bill was the most laid-back person she’d met. She was always a big fan of taking life as it came and Yaz had appealed to her weak spot. 

“Who knows how it's going to go?” Yaz continued, on a roll. The more she spoke, the clearer her own feelings became. “But I can't live my life being scared of what could happen. I need to live openly, in more ways than one. I've only just started to realise what life has to offer. And I want to grab it with both hands.”

To her surprise, Bill held up her own hands, offering no rebuttal. It was as if she was doing the very opposite and finally starting to let the matter go.

“You’re completely right, Yaz. I’m sorry.”

The wave of relief was immense and Yaz felt it lift the weight from her shoulders. Emboldened, she asked what had been bugging her during their entire conversation. It felt like they were making progress, and she wanted to keep pushing.

“Do you still have feelings for Jules?” she blurted.

Bill laughed ruefully.

“Maybe I do,” she admitted. “It's never that simple is it. Especially when they're the best person you've ever met.”

Yaz was at a loss, having never even been in a serious relationship before, never mind one that had clearly made such an impact.

“No,” she offered, feeling woefully out of her depth. Was any person worth this much pain? Yaz debated the thought for a second before realising that the answer was a resounding yes because although she didn’t know what it was like to have a relationship haunt her, she knew what Bill meant when she said it was impossible to forget the best person she’d ever met. 

It just so happened it was the same person for both of them.

“I swear sometimes life would be easier if I was straight,” Bill laughed, tossing her cup in a nearby bin. 

“Yeah but Amy...Amy is amazing. I know it’s hard but if you dwell too much on the past, you’re going to miss what you have right now.”

Although Yaz’s own experiences were shaped by entirely different forces, she knew this much to be true. 

“You’re right, Yaz. I just didn’t want something like this to happen to you.”

Yaz rolled her eyes. 

“I doubt she even thinks of me like that, so I wouldn't worry.”

“You’re kidding me,” Bill scoffed. “I've never seen her act around anyone the way she does around you. She even mentioned your name when she apologised to me, that day when we talked.”

Butterflies came to life in Yaz’s stomach but she tried not to read too much into what Bill was saying. Perhaps Bill was just perceptive to these things because of her own feelings towards Jules. 

Whatever avenue their conversation was going to take next would remain unknown; a shoplifter put paid to their heart to heart, starting their day off with a much-needed rush of adrenaline. 

* * *

Several hours later, Yaz had almost forgotten that she’d texted Jules. But as she neared her locker at the end of her shift, her nerves returned. Jules would have seen her messages by now; with any luck, she’d have replied. Yaz was just debating whether she’d have accepted the offer of assistance when she opened up the app and found that there was actually no reply whatsoever; the message had been left on read several hours ago.

Yaz’s good mood came crashing down around her. Only that morning had she turned a corner with Bill, but now it felt like she’d been knocked back. She knew it was foolish to let her emotional state be dictated by someone like Jules, someone she barely knew, but she was so worried about her that she couldn’t help but be disappointed that she’d essentially ignored the messages. Deep down, she knew that Jules was probably struggling, but that didn’t stop it from hurting. 

_Why did it hurt so badly?_ Yaz thought they had been getting closer, so it wasn’t really that surprising. But maybe what Yaz had sensed brewing between them had only been obvious to her. The one person who knew Jules best was also the one person she could not discuss her worries with.

Bill chatted to her as they packed up and Yaz threw back some vague responses, barely concentrating. She shoved her phone in her pocket, determined not to look at it, and pasted on a smile as she bade Bill farewell for the evening. The next time they’d see each other would be at the final game in two days’ time; Yaz had hoped that Jules might be there in the stands, watching with them, but the prospect now seemed even less likely than it had before. 

The walk from her car to the flat seemed to take even longer than usual when all Yaz wanted to do was go to sleep and hide from the world. But fate had other plans because Sonya arrived home at the same time and called out for her as she was waiting for the lift. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” Sonya smiled, half acknowledging Yaz, half scrolling on her phone. 

“College ran late?” Yaz frowned, wondering why Sonya was only just returning home. 

“Oh. Yeah. Group project,” Sonya pulled a face, pocketing her phone when she took in her sister’s appearance. “Long shift?”

“You could say that,” Yaz sighed, rolling her shoulders as she tried to relieve some tension. 

With the season drawing to a close, she was sorely missing the exercise that the games provided; practice was nowhere near as tiring as it had been, partly because other social commitments had started to ramp up with Christmas on the horizon. They rarely had full-team practices anymore, which was why Yaz was so looking forward to watching the final game with everyone. After that, there would be no games until the end of January, when they were due to fly to Germany for some friendly games that Ryan had set up.

“You okay, Yaz? You seem a bit distracted.”

“How can you tell?”

“Sister sense,” Sonya smiled, then looked at her with concern. “Come on. I know I could do with a cuppa, and mum and dad are out for dinner tonight.”

Although Yaz didn’t much feel like talking, her sister could be very persuasive once she got an idea in her head and Yaz knew it would be futile to try and put her off. It wasn’t like she had anywhere else to go, or any other plans. 

“Sure.”

As Sonya boiled the kettle, Yaz flicked on the news in an attempt to distract herself from the phone she’d abandoned on the coffee table. There was nothing of note on the TV but it was helpful background noise as Yaz untied her boots, settling into the cushions. After a day on her feet, the sofa was bliss. The fact that her parents were out was a rare treat and Yaz longed for a day when she could return to her own place and have some time to herself. 

“Budge up,” Sonya grumbled, plonking herself unnecessarily close. Yaz huffed as she shifted up. Then she realised she should probably tell Sonya what she was thinking, while they had some time to themselves. She wasn’t quite ready to break the news to her parents that she was moving out, but she knew her sister would be reasonably supportive.

“You know, it won’t be long til you’ll have this sofa all to yourself,” she started, hoping that Sonya would cotton on. 

“Well yeah, you’re going to shower after this, right? I can smell those boots from here.”

“Oi,” Yaz grumbled, shoving her sister half-heartedly. “That’s not what I meant. I mean...I think I’m going to move out. When I pass probation. Maybe in the new year.”

“What?” Sonya seemed taken aback by the news. “Really?”

“Yeah. I’m too old to be living at home and it’s not like I’ve not got an income. I can pay rent.” Yaz took a sip of her tea, watching her sister’s face carefully for her reaction. She seemed more upset by the news than she’d expected. 

“I suppose,” Sonya agreed after a moment. “Does that mean I get your room?”

“I knew you’d say that,” Yaz laughed, the moment bittersweet. It would be the end of an era and although she knew she’d see her sister almost just as much as she did now, it would never be quite the same. 

“Got to look out for number one,” Sonya affirmed. “But this isn’t what’s bugging you.”

“Wha- how do you know that?” Yaz frowned, genuinely confused. “And don’t say it’s your ‘sister sense’ or whatever.”

“Honestly, I can just tell,” Sonya said, putting her mug down so that she could turn and face Yaz properly. “That and I know you’re not sleeping.”

“Oh. That obvious?”

Sonya nodded, sympathetic. 

“Is this anything to do with...what’s her name..Jules?”

Hearing Jules’s name from her sister’s mouth was a strange feeling. It made things feel a little too real. 

“What happened?” Sonya persisted. She was like a dog with a bone when it came to gossip, and she had a good nose for it. “Come on, I told you to keep me in the loop. So spill.”

Sonya shifted so that her feet were on the couch, tucking them underself as she settled in to listen. Yaz started to speak haltingly about the incident on the pitch and the trip to the hospital. 

“Was that where you were? Mum was fuming, she thought you’d broken down or something and then it just spiralled from there. She was so distracted she burned my birthday cake.”

Yaz grimaced, remembering the reception she’d received when she’d returned home that night. 

“Yet another reason why I need to move out,” Yaz said. “I get why she was concerned, but I promise you don’t need to do that, anymore. I don’t want you to have to worry.”

Sonya reached out for her instinctively. 

“Sometimes I think I do, Yaz. And we’ll always worry about you because that’s what we do. We’re family. Especially now ‘cos, no offence, but this thing you’ve got yourself into sounds more serious than it did before. ”

“Yeah,” Yaz sighed. “But I spoke to Bill about it, this morning, actually. She’s come around.”

“That’s good,” Sonya agreed. “What happened after the hospital? How badly is she hurt?”

“She won’t be able to use that arm for weeks. And she can’t play, which I know she loves more than anything.”

“She sounds a bit obsessed with it, if you ask me,” Sonya frowned. 

“Yeah well, I didn’t,” Yaz snapped, tired of people offering their opinions when she didn’t necessarily want to hear them. At the look on Sonya’s face she softened her tone. “Sorry, Sonya. I’m just worried about her.”

Sonya squinted at her curiously. 

“Did you text her already?”

_Busted._

“Maybe…” Yaz murmured.

Within seconds, Sonya had snatched her phone from the coffee table and unlocked it so quickly that Yaz could have blinked and she’d have missed it. 

“Oi!” she protested, reaching for her phone, genuinely impressed at how quickly her sister had moved. Sonya was one step ahead, lifting the phone out of reach; Yaz was still hindered by the fact she had a cup of tea in her hand, and she was loath to spill it on the couch. She didn’t want to risk annoying Najia any further.

“How do you know my passcode?”

“You need to be more subtle when you unlock it,” Sonya murmured, already scrolling through.

Yaz watched with bated breath as Sonya pulled a face. 

“Oh god.”

“That bad?” 

“Well. I don’t think playing it cool is your strong point.”

“I don’t think playing it cool is what she needs right now,” Yaz retorted, feeling embarrassed that her younger sister was schooling her on text etiquette. “But she didn’t reply. I don’t know what to do.”

“Maybe she can’t text that well, you know? If her arm isn’t up to much. Or maybe..just maybe...she just wants to be left alone?”

“She shouldn't be alone,” Yaz replied instantly. “Even though I reckon that’s exactly what she wants to do.”

Sonya looked at her for a long moment; just long enough to make Yaz worry. She was about to say something Yaz didn’t want to hear.

“I think you've got it bad for her, Yaz.”

Yaz groaned, loudly. Apparently that had been patently obvious to everyone else but her.

“I think I do, yeah.”

Sonya was watching her sympathetically.

“Not being funny, but what are you to each other? Are you even all that close?”

“No,” Yaz admitted. She’d told herself as much already.

“Put that phone away, then,” Sonya said, handing back the device. “You need to look after yourself, too.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Yaz grumbled. She was tired of everyone insisting they knew what was best for her, even if they had the best intentions. What made matters worse was that what she’d sensed building between herself and Jules seemed to have terminated in a dead end. They were stuck, and with no way to properly speak to Jules until the league resumed, Yaz knew she’d be mulling over her thoughts for weeks. The prospect was not appealing in the slightest. 

“Because we care about you,” Sonya said simply, patting Yaz on the knee as she got up. “And because I’m your sister and because I love you very much, I know you also won’t be offended when I ask you to leave those boots outside.”

Yaz waited until Sonya had left the room before she opened up her phone. She told herself that this would be the least time she’d text. Her sense of self-preservation, cultivated so carefully by Bill and Sonya that very day, was shoved aside for the reassurance that she needed to feel so badly; the reassurance that she’d at least told Jules that she was there for her, if she needed her. 

Yaz knew the others would call her foolish, but she simply did not care. She didn’t want Jules to think she was alone. It hurt to even think about it.

_Hey. I get that you might not want to talk but I want you to know that I'm here, if you do._

With a heavy sigh, Yaz pushed herself to her feet, and was about to comply with her sister’s request and move her boots outside when her phone buzzed in her hand. She nearly dropped it when she saw the notification. 

A message, from Jules. It comprised only two words, but they meant the world; Yaz had been heard, and Jules had acknowledged that she was not alone.

_Thank you._


	14. Three dots

Yaz pulled her hand away with a grimace. It was never wise to lean on a bar, a lesson she was rapidly learning, and judging by the aroma that followed she’d put the palm of her hand slap bang onto the dregs of a spilled lager. She snagged a napkin from a stack near the straws as the barman started pulling the third pint, ignoring Rose’s laughter. 

“Not my fault some people can’t hold their booze,” Yaz replied, crumpling up the tissue. With a sigh, she realised it would have been easier simply to wipe her hand on her jeans because she was now stuck with a beer-soaked tissue that ended up in her pocket, anyway. She’d have to make sure her mum didn’t insist on washing these clothes. 

“Come on, Yaz. Cut loose!” Rose shouted over the music. “You survived your first season. That's a reason to celebrate, trust me.”

Yaz snorted. 

“Just about. Those were probably the 12 most dramatic weeks of my life.”

“But they were fun, right?”

Rose’s smile was infectious and despite her dour mood, Yaz couldn’t help but return it. 

“Yeah. You might be right. I guess I’m just a bit gutted it’s over.”

“Only for a little bit. We’ll be on that plane to Germany in a few weeks...tonight will be a good warm up.”

As Rose turned back to resume ordering the round, Yaz scanned the room. Sure enough, her team were still ensconced in one of the corners of the bar, gathered around a table to play Never Have I Ever. Donna had even migrated over from her own team to lead with Martha, and together they were a force to be reckoned with, lowering the tone almost instantly. Yaz had left the game pretty quickly after someone piped up with sex in the back seat of a car; her experiences thus far precluded anything remotely kinky or adventurous and she'd rapidly felt out of her depth in a way that made her feel almost wistful. 

Clara was talking with Graham and Ryan off to one side, and behind them stood Amy and Bill, oblivious to everyone but each other. Yaz couldn’t help but notice that Bill had draped an arm around Amy’s waist. On the journey from the playing fields to the bar, Bill had confided in Yaz that she was going to tell the team about her new relationship status - not that it was much of a secret - because she’d been inspired by their talk to embrace things with Amy more fully, and to be more honest. 

Bill seemed to sense she was being watched because after a moment she looked straight over and met Yaz’s eye, then grinned widely. She looked content. But while Yaz was happy to see Bill looking so at ease, she felt like she’d been cut adrift. Sure, she was with friends; she was happy to be spending time with them because she wouldn’t see them for several weeks. But there was one very obvious person missing, a person who Yaz wanted to see more than anything. 

Her mood had taken a dive when Jules was nowhere to be seen at the game earlier that afternoon. There had been no sign of her car when Yaz had arrived at the grounds but that had made sense; it wasn’t like she could really drive. But Yaz had clung onto the hope that she might appear at least for the social afterwards, the notorious end-of-season session that everyone had been so excited about for the past few weeks. 

Yaz had felt her enthusiasm disintegrate during the evening and although she’d tried to put a face on it, she felt lonely. Despite being surrounded by friends, she felt disconnected. 

“Is that all”? The barman asked, half-joking as he eyed the tray of drinks that Rose was about to pick up. 

“I’ll have something,” Yaz cut in, taking Rose by surprise. “One won’t hurt,” she said, and Rose shrugged. 

“What’ll you have? Maybe not shots, this time.”

“No. No sambuca.” Yaz shivered dramatically. She could still taste it when she thought about it. 

“A pint?”

Yaz pulled a face. 

“Alright, alright...let me see...vodka and coke? You won’t taste it if it’s half decent vodka, anyway.”

“Sure.” Yaz hoped the alcohol would help her switch off a bit and have fun, but she had a better feel for her limits than before. 

Within seconds, a cold glass was in her hand, sides sticky with overflowing coke. The bubbles tickled the end of her nose as she took a sip and Yaz could almost instantly feel the alcohol hit her tongue. 

“Alright?” Rose was smiling at her encouragingly. “Take it slow.”

“Yes, mum.”

Between them, they conveyed the tray of drinks back without incident to a round of cheers and applause. Rose took a bow and Bill rejoined the team, Amy close behind. 

“Now that we’re all here, I think we need a toast!” Bill shouted, raising her voice over the chatter and music. It was mid-December; the bar was unsurprisingly busy, but Bill was clearly audible and within seconds had the attention of not only everybody gathered around their table, but the neighbouring ones, too. It was a sight to behold; Bill held the respect of everyone on her team, Yaz included. 

“Thanks to Ryan’s above-par organisational skills, we've finally booked the trip to Germany! Where we’ll get to try some new teams on for size. And we're not the only ones.”

Bill pointed energetically at a couple of the other teams nearby, including, to Yaz’s relief, Jules’s team. Yaz had considered that they might be going, and that Jules would be joining them since her arm would have healed, but she hadn’t wanted to give herself false hope. All she’d had to look forward to was extra shifts over Christmas and some family gatherings. Now, she could contemplate seeing Jules again, and the thought was so distracting that she didn’t notice that all eyes were on her until Bill prompted her.

“Yaz?”

“What?”

A chorus of laughter followed and Yaz felt herself flushing. She took another drink. 

“I was just saying that we can’t forget our newest recruit.”

“Who, me?”

“Yes, you, dummy.”

“Speech!” Clara heckled, cupping her hands around her mouth. She was joined momentarily by several others. 

“Traitors,” Yaz murmured. 

“Come on, Yaz. Just a few words,” Bill encouraged, eyes sparkling with mirth. She knew how much Yaz hated public speaking. 

“I’m going to kill you.”

“That might make work awkward.”

Yaz laughed despite herself and took another drink to calm her sudden nerves, startled to realise she’d finished it. _That would explain the slight buzz_. Someone handed her another glass and she took a sip, grimacing as she tasted something burn her throat. She looked at the glass and spied a brown-looking liquid, no mixer. 

“Proper Scottish whiskey, on the rocks,” Amy explained, laughing at Yaz’s disgusted expression. 

“Alright, while Yaz tries to recover, I’ll start her off,” Bill said. “You've made such a difference to the team. Our defence has never been better.”

“I’m not going to take that personally,” Martha called out, but Yaz could see she didn’t mean it, even as her eyes watered from the alcohol. 

“And we’re so glad you joined us.”

Yaz cleared her throat, the taste of whiskey lingering. The respite had given her a chance to pull some words together.

“Ok, ok. What can I say after that introduction? I had to see what the fuss was all about when Bill kept banging on and on about the team...and the hangovers she kept getting.”

Yaz surprised herself with the attempt at humour and was delighted when it prompted a wave of laughter and catcalls directed at Bill. 

“Lightweight!” Donna hollered, reminding Yaz that she had an even bigger audience than she’d thought. She was actually relieved Jules wasn’t there to witness events. But the alcohol was having the desired effect and Yaz felt herself relaxing. She was surrounded by friends and finally starting to enjoy herself for the first time that evening. 

“But honestly, really, it’s one of the best things I've done in a long time. Thank you for having me and for making me feel so welcome.” Yaz could feel her lightweight tone falling by the wayside as she spoke truthfully, emphasising every word. “You don't know how much it means to me.”

Before she could embarrass herself further, Yaz raised Amy’s glass in a toast and everyone cheered - except for Bill, who called her a sap - just as another group entered the bar. Yaz belatedly realised she’d have to take another sip of the whisky and she took a much smaller mouthful, feeling it burn her lips. They were still tingling when the new arrivals approached and Yaz felt her good cheer fade almost instantly. 

Bill hadn’t seemed to notice who’d arrived and was still speaking, her back to the door. 

“To the end of an amazing season and to a night of carnage!” But her toast didn’t raise much in the way of a response and she frowned, puzzled by the sudden change in atmosphere. Yaz was frozen in place, unsure what to do. The new arrival had taken her by complete surprise. 

“What?” Bill turned to her. “Yaz? What’s wrong?”

Yaz could sense that her face had fallen; her grip on the whiskey glass was so tight her knuckles had turned white. 

When no answer was forthcoming, Bill finally turned to see Missy strolling up to them. 

Bill’s posture changed subtly, but Yaz could see it happen almost immediately. Her shoulders had straightened, head held higher than usual. Her body language was lost on Missy, however, who zeroed in on Yaz. 

“I don't know what you think you're playing at, but you aren't welcome.”

Missy grinned, not phased by Bill’s rude tone. 

“Who said I needed an invitation? This is a public place, after all, and I am a member of the public, am I not?"

Yaz couldn’t believe what she was hearing. The strange way in which Missy spoke barely registered, but her smug expression definitely made an impact. Yaz found herself itching to wipe it from her face.

“You have some nerve showing up here after what you pulled,” Yaz spat. Already she could feel the whiskey suffusing into her bloodstream, making her bold. Binding to her in a way that left her feeling slightly out of control, slave to whatever mischief the loss of inhibition might yield.

“And I think I've touched a nerve, clearly. Is your little friend ok?” Missy smirked, looking back at Bill. 

That was enough to send Yaz into sudden fury and she placed the glass on the table with more force than was strictly necessary. Bill whirled around at the noise, sensing trouble. 

“It’s alright, Yaz. Take a breath,” she urged. “She’s not worth it. Don’t make a mistake over this.”

She was desperately trying to make eye contact with Yaz, but all Yaz could see was Missy’s leering face. Yaz knew that Bill was right, that getting into an altercation in a bar could only have negative ramifications for her life and even her career, but she also knew that punching Missy in the face would be incredibly satisfying. She forced herself to think of Jules. _What would Jules do?_

A tense few seconds passed where the only sound was the awful music and then Yaz felt the tension snap, releasing itself as she exhaled. Jules wouldn’t harm a fly.

“You’re right. She’s not even worth the air she’s breathing.”

Yaz knew she sounded churlish but Missy’s arrival had been a nasty surprise. She turned to rummage for her jacket in the pile of belongings, suddenly in need of some fresh air to clear her head. 

She practically burst out of the door, alarming the bouncer. Thankfully, Martha followed not long after and assured him that they were alright, thanks, and that they just needed a breather.

The street was full of drunken idiots and the vibe was buoyant, despite the freezing cold air. Yaz pulled her coat around herself as she took deep breaths, trying to ignore the anger fizzing inside of her, bursting to get out. It frightened her, how quickly she’d moved to anger. Alcohol was partly to blame, she knew, and adrenaline, but she now knew that her feelings for Jules were also responsible. Missy was the reason that Jules was alone and in pain. And she’d turned up at their social like she’d wanted to gloat about it.

Martha shivered as their breaths clouded in the air. 

“Missy really shouldn't have shown up here,” Yaz grumbled, kicking at a cigarette butt with her shoe. 

“I'm pretty sure she'll get a tough ride from Jules's team, but maybe that's what she wants,” Martha offered. “Drama. She’ll be kicked out of the league if she keeps pulling shit like this, though, don’t worry. Bill will see to it.”

“At least Jules isn't here,” Yaz sighed, looking skyward. The clouds were tinged with orange from the streetlights. It would be nice to get away from the city, she thought. See something new. Or at least the stars. 

“Jules knows how to look after herself. She's a medic, and an army medic, at that. Tough as old boots.”

Yaz shook her head.

“That isn't what's worrying me. She shouldn't be alone right now.”

To her relief, Martha didn’t question her logic. Yaz wasn’t sure she could describe it - it was just a gut feeling she had. But she knew that even sober, she’d have thought the same. 

“You've got her number though, right?” Martha grinned. Yaz nudged her with her elbow. 

“Thanks for that, by the way. Even if it wasn’t subtle.”

“Don't say it like you aren't grateful," Martha retorted. "Anyway, you two don't need any more subtlety."

“Is it that obvious?”

“Oh my god, Yaz. Have you been living under a rock for the past 3 months?” Martha groaned. 

“I feel like I'm the last to find out," Yaz huffed. "Not that it matters, though...she's not really talking to me.”

Yaz could hear how miserable she sounded but alcohol seemed to numb her to feeling it, at least for the time being. It was a welcome reprieve, even if she was starting to wonder if she should keep her mouth shut before she said too much. 

“She was talking about you when I set her arm. You should let her know you're on her side,” Martha suggested. “That's always nice to hear. Even if she doesn’t reply, just knowing you’re there...I think it'll mean a lot. And on that note...I think I'll go and see if Bill needs a hand. Don't stay out here for too long, though, or you'll get hypothermia.”

With a wave to Yaz and a nod to the bouncer, Martha made her way back to the warmth indoors. Although Yaz was starting to lose feeling in her toes, she wasn’t quite ready to go back inside. Instead, she pulled out her phone. 

After a few seconds of mental debate, she opened up her messages with Jules. The last one had been from Jules herself, and Yaz had successfully ignored the temptation to message back; it wasn’t like the last message had truly encouraged conversation. It was more of an acknowledgement than anything.

But now...now, Yaz had something to talk about. And really, she just wanted to talk to Jules. There was a tentative channel of communication that she wanted to nourish, a chink in Jules’s armour that she wanted to slip between. Yaz spied an opportunity to keep her talking. 

The alcohol might have made Yaz less cautious than she should have been but she found that she simply did not care. 

_Your arch nemesis is here and it's taking all my willpower not to give her a taste of her own medicine_

She sent the message before she could chicken out and was just about to put the phone away when she hesitated. 

Three dots had appeared. An ellipsis; a natural pause that made Yaz, in turn, take pause. 

Yaz held her breath. She glanced up at the time on the top of her phone - past midnight - and was surprised to see that Jules was still awake, never mind actually replying.

_Missy? You should stay away from her, Yaz. She's bad news._

Yaz was touched by Jules’s concern. She’d expected something different, but of course Jules would say something like that. She was too kind to be vindictive.

_Ok. But I still hate her for what she did to you. I'm sorry if I woke you up btw_

Yaz knew that Jules was probably already awake, but part of her wanted Jules to admit that she wasn’t sleeping. 

The door behind her opened and the music grew louder, then quietened again as it closed. Yaz turned to see a couple leaving; no sign of Missy, or Bill, or anyone she knew. Perhaps they’d managed to separate the teams and keep things civil. Yaz wasn’t sure she could maintain civility, though, even after an extended period of fresh air. 

The thought of going back inside didn’t appeal in the slightest and while Jules continued to type, Yaz reluctantly closed the messages and opened up Uber. She’d just confirmed a car when a notification floated above the app.

_It's ok, I was up. If Missy has any sense, she’s probably scared of you, anyway. I heard you strode right onto the pitch that day. Wish I'd seen it properly for myself._

Yaz felt a flurry of warmth engulf her for a split second, and she smiled at the screen. By now, her hands had grown numb and as the Uber pulled up, Yaz bit the bullet. She pressed on Jules’s contact and then on the number that flashed up, hitting ‘call.’ She’d blame Amy’s whiskey for this later on, she knew, because she never voluntarily called anyone. But she wanted to hear Jules’s voice more than anything.

The phone rang out as the driver pulled away and Yaz bit her lip, her heart racing. Jules was awake but would she answer? Yaz couldn’t imagine why she wouldn’t, but those seconds were suspenseful enough to leave her on the edge of her seat.

A beep and the ringing stopped. Then, a voice she had longed to hear.

“Yaz? You ok?”

Yaz breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of her voice. 

“Too tired to type. And I've forgotten what you sound like.”

Yaz couldn’t quite believe what she was saying aloud but the sound of Jules’s laughter helped put her sober self at ease. 

“I forgot it was the social.”

Yaz settled back on the seat, eyeing up the water bottle the driver had left in the door pocket. She knew she should drink some but right now her priority was Jules and she devoted her entire attention to keeping hold of her phone.

“Yeah. You were missed.”

“Oh?” 

“Don’t sound so surprised. More than a few of us missed you.”

“Us? Does that include you?” 

Yaz could hear the teasing tone in Jules’s voice. 

“Maybe,” she admitted, and she heard Jules breathe down the line. A pause. “That’s not a bad thing though, right?”

Silence. Yaz waited for a second. 

“Jules?”

No response. Yaz felt her stomach plummet. _Shit._ She’d thought they were getting on okay. She pulled her phone away from her ear in confusion, hoping she’d not put her foot well and truly in it, and groaned in despair when she saw the battery had died mid-conversation. 

_Of all the times…_

But at least Jules hadn’t hung up on her. Instead, she’d essentially hung up on Jules and Yaz longed to get home so they could resume their conversation.

The rest of the ride seemed to take forever, not helped by the fact the driver got lost and ignored Yaz’s drunken directions, but when she did finally make it home, the first thing Yaz did was put her phone on charge. But it refused to turn on so she distracted herself by preparing for bed, then downing three glasses of water as she waited impatiently for it to revive. 

Finally, the screen came back on and Yaz entered her passcode wrong twice before she got in on the third attempt. 

To her relief, Jules had texted.

_Are you ok? X_

The kiss was new, Yaz noted, passing her thumb over it like she could reach out and touch it. She felt like she was floating and she flopped back onto her bed, phone firmly in hand, feeling sleep crowd in on the edges of consciousness. She wanted more than anything to continue their phone call but it was even later than before, and she really didn’t want her parents to hear her. That, and she was pretty certain she was about to fall asleep.

_Yeah sorry, phone died. Gonna sleep now. Wish you were here. X_

Yaz barely sent the message before her eyes drifted shut and she finally passed out, phone still in hand and clutched to her like she never wanted to let go. 

* * *

When Yaz awoke the next morning, it was to a mouth as dry as the Sahara and a cramp in her hand. Gingerly, she loosened her grip, wondering why she'd fallen asleep with her hand clenched so tight. She never normally slept with her phone in her hand.

Her head wasn’t pounding, at least, and that made life more bearable. It also made events from the previous night more memorable and Yaz grimaced as she remembered what had happened. She was relieved she hadn't punched Missy - if anything, Missy would have wanted it. But after that...she’d called Jules. She’d _called_ Jules. Yaz racked her brain, trying to recall what they’d said. Messages. Messages would help put the puzzle pieces together. 

Yaz shut her eyes when she saw the last message she’d sent. Jules hadn't replied. 

"For fuck's sake, Yaz," she uttered. "What a moron."

She had well and truly lost her cool. Yaz scrolled up, looking at their brief conversation several times like she was panning for gold; nuggets of information or clues that would help her unravel exactly what had transpired between them. As ever, Jules was inscrutable; she hadn’t offered up much in the way of information. But Yaz certainly had been honest. The only hint she got was the single kiss at the end of Jules's text and Yaz clung to it. It was her saving grace.

"Yaz? Are you talking to yourself?"

Najia's voice drifted through her bedroom door. 

“Er..yeah. Sorry, mum.” Yaz looked at the alarm clock on her bedside table. It was still early. 

“Can I come in?”

Yaz threw herself out of bed to open the window, wondering just how bad her room smelled of alcohol. She was certain she could smell it on herself but she didn’t have much time to hide the evidence before Najia was opening the door. 

“Whoah,” Yaz muttered, frustrated that her mum had come in anyway. She sat back on the bed, feeling a wave of dizziness pass from the sudden movement. Apparently she hadn’t escaped as unscathed as she’d thought. 

Najia’s nose wrinkled slightly. 

“Yaz, what’s that smell?”

“Someone spilled a pint on me,” Yaz explained, which was a half truth. She was pretty certain her jeans had absorbed the beer-soaked tissue in their pocket. 

“Right…” Najia murmured, apparently unconvinced. “I heard you come back.”

“Sorry about that,” Yaz apologised, genuinely contrite. “I didn’t quite mean to stay out quite so late.”

To her surprise, Najia smiled. 

“I was your age once, you know,” she said with a sigh, leaning against Yaz’s wardrobe. Yaz was relieved that she didn’t make a move closer or she’d no doubt smell the whiskey that seemed to cling to Yaz like an aura.

“I know this situation isn’t ideal.”

Yaz opened her mouth and shut it again. She’d been working up the courage to bring up this very subject with her parents for weeks and her mum had brought it up herself, out of the blue. Briefly, Yaz wondered if Sonya had raised the topic. 

“It’s okay, mum. It’s not you, it’s just…”

“You’re too old to be living at home, Yaz. You need your own space. And these..pub trips? Team outings? What do you call them?”

“Socials,” Yaz supplied.

“Socials,” Najia repeated. “At first I worried you were going to end up overdoing it.”

Yaz remembered waking up in Jules’s flat with her first ever hangover and opted to keep her mouth shut. 

“But I actually think they’re good for you. Me and dad, we know you’re having fun. Enjoying yourself. And you should, because you work so hard, love.”

Yaz ducked her head, unsure what to make of the sudden compliments. Her mum was more often critical than supportive, and never quite so vocal about her thoughts. 

“So when you’re ready to start looking, we’ll help. We can help with the deposit for a flat, even if you’re just renting-”

“Really?” Yaz interrupted, unable to contain herself any longer. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Just the thought that she could move out, with not only her parents’ blessing but even some financial support, was too good to be true. She held back from telling her mum that she was hoping to move out imminently; she’d save that news for a later date. 

“Of course. That’s what we’re here for.”

Even though she knew it was a risk, Yaz got to her feet and closed the gap between them, pulling her mum into a grateful hug. 

“Thanks, mum.”

“Always, Yaz. Never forget that we’re here for you, no matter what.”

Yaz could feel tears threatening and she clung tighter, hiding her face. If only her past self could look forward a few years to the future and see how bright her prospects looked. After a few moments she finally pulled back, gathering herself. If Najia noticed how teary her eyes looked, she didn’t say anything.

“Now how about you get ready and help me with the shop? Your dad’s thrown his back out again.”

* * *

“I feel like the Chuckle Brothers,” Bill grunted, hefting the wood in her hands. Yaz had the other end of the bookcase and they were navigating it up a narrow flight of stairs with mild difficulty.

“To me, to you?” Yaz quipped, feeling the exertion start to take its toll. Her new flat was on the top floor of a converted house, which was very nice but meant that there was no lift. 

The bookcase was one of the last things to go, though, and she knew that once they got to the top of the stairs they could finally relax a little. Bill and Amy had insisted on helping her move when they found out about her plans and Yaz realised she’d have been somewhat stuck without them; her dad’s back was still playing up and it had pained him to not be able to help move the furniture. 

That, and Yaz didn’t want to burden her family with the more mundane tasks of moving out when they weren’t all that keen on her moving out to begin with. 

“Looks like you’ve got some fun neighbours,” Amy commented, following them up the stairs with a box in her arms. “Hogmanay was about a week ago and their recycling is still full of empties.”

“Yet another reason why I went for the top floor,” Yaz panted. "Definitely don't want party animals living above me."

Her arms were starting to tire and she let out a muted cheer as they finally reached the landing by her front door.

Her own front door. Yaz kept having to pinch herself.

“I reckon they’ll be up for a housewarming,” Bill said, catching her breath once they’d deposited the bookcase inside. “Subtle hint.”

Yaz laughed, wiping her brow with the back of her hand. It was still freezing cold out, even for January, but repeated trips up and down the stairs had made sure she didn’t feel it. 

“Subtle hint acknowledged. I’ll need to start thinking about who to invite.” 

“How about Jules?” Bill suggested almost immediately, and Amy laughed at her eagerness. Yaz felt like she wasn’t in on the joke. 

“What about her?” she asked, curious as to what Bill was getting at. 

“Have you heard from her recently?” 

Yaz busied herself shifting some boxes while the others caught their breath. They were done for the day; soon enough, Yaz would be alone in her own flat, for the first time ever. The prospects that lay before her were exciting - she could date more openly, for a start, and people could stay over if she wanted them to, no questions asked - and Yaz had made a conscious effort not to think about Jules too much. She didn’t know quite where they stood but Yaz knew she actually had something to play for, and something she could just as equally lose if she didn’t tread carefully.

“Not really,” she finally admitted. “The odd text.” 

In truth, Yaz had been the last one in contact and the wait for any other news from Jules was slowly killing her. 

Bill hummed, non-committal, then changed the subject so quickly it almost gave Yaz whiplash.

“Well, now that we’ve done all the heavy lifting I think it’s time we ate those calories back. Pizza?”

Much later, Yaz lay in her old bed in her new bedroom, listening to the sounds of the flat. There was an odd ticking sound that she realised was probably the boiler and then, randomly, the sound of a chair moving downstairs. It was strange to have so much empty space and only herself in it. Sounds seemed more amplified and echoed, a problem that Yaz knew could be remedied a little once she unpacked the rest of her belongings. Yaz half expected to hear her sister walking down the hall. It took her a long time to sleep that night but when she awoke the next morning, limbs aching from the move, she rolled over to a surprise. 

A message on her phone. Not from her family, as she might have expected, but from Jules.

_How did the move go?_

Yaz blinked. She hadn’t told Jules she was moving, as much as she’d wanted to. 

Another message popped up. 

_Bill texted me out of the blue and mentioned it._

Yaz was surprised that Bill had been in contact with Jules. Then, she remembered what Bill had said the previous day. A thought passed her mind. Perhaps Bill was getting involved for entirely different reasons to before. Rather than keeping them apart, was she trying to nudge them together? 

_Not too bad. Maybe you'll have to come and see it some time, when you're feeling up to it?_

Yaz cast out another lifeline. She was getting good at that, pushing in ways that she knew she could. It didn’t hurt that Jules had become more receptive, either.

_To be honest I could do with leaving these four walls._

Yaz fumbled with her phone in her rush to reply, and forced herself to redraft the message when she saw how many typos were in it.

_Well I'm not up to much today, other than unpacking._

There. That left the ball in Jules’s court. And to Yaz’s immense surprise, she played ball. 

_I’m game. What's your address?_


	15. Admission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't planning on writing this for a couple more days but I could not get this out of my head and I had to get it down. RIP sleep. I hope you enjoy! A 5k Yules fix for your weekend :)

Yaz was pretty sure she could have worn a hole in the floor and waved to her downstairs neighbours through it by the time Jules finally arrived. She hadn't really indicated a time or said when she was leaving, which left Yaz at something of a loose end. 

Most of her boxes were still half unpacked but Yaz had been drifting aimlessly between them, depositing books and clothes as she went, unable to concentrate. Her new kettle - a present from Bill, who insisted she didn't deprive herself of tea for any length of time - was one of the only kitchen items she'd bothered to unpack, as well as her favourite mugs from home. That settled her somewhat.

Even so, when her buzzer rang 97 minutes later, Yaz could have jumped out of her skin. She had to assume it was Jules but really it could be the postman, or a surprise trip from her family, which she knew would happen any day now. She sincerely hoped it was the former. Her worst nightmare would be for her mum to turn up just before Jules did.

"Hello?" Yaz pressed the intercom button, hoping it worked. She’d yet to receive any visitors; Jules would be her first guest. A voice crackled through the speaker but Yaz could recognise Jules's voice anywhere. 

"Just me."

The way Jules said it was so casual that Yaz let herself daydream while she waited for her to climb the stairs, depressing the entry button for far longer than was strictly necessary in her distraction. She imagined Jules turning up to collect her for a date, or asking Yaz to let her in because she'd forgotten her keys. 

An abrupt knock on Yaz's front door jerked her back to reality. _She's here_. Only a door separated them. Really, they hadn’t ever been that far apart - a couple of miles at most, and always at the end of the phone, but the distance had felt greater than ever before simply because Yaz had no real excuse to see Jules as much as she’d wanted to. But now, Jules was here. Only a few inches separated them and once they were eliminated from the equation, Yaz wondered how things were going to go. This felt like a turning point.

Yaz took a breath and opened the door. Her smile faltered only slightly when she laid eyes on Jules for the first time in weeks. 

She seemed smaller, somehow; Yaz couldn’t quite place why. Her face was pale, with dark shadows beneath her eyes, but she still looked beautiful in a way that Yaz knew would never change. Her hair had grown a little and she’d worn it down, rather than tied up in her usual scruffy ponytail, but it didn’t hide the fact that her cheekbones were more prominent than ever. 

“Can I come in?” Jules asked, and Yaz took a step back. She’d obviously been staring. 

“Sorry, I just- bit distracted,” Yaz muttered, standing aside to let Jules pass. She was dressed in some dungarees and a zip-up hoodie, but Yaz could see the outline of the sling underneath. One arm of the jumper hung loose, as did one of her dungaree straps, reminding Yaz that Jules was still very much out of action. 

While it might have been a practical choice of clothing for functional reasons, it wasn’t the most sensible choice given the weather forecast, which had predicted snow later that afternoon. 

Jules stopped a few steps in and took in the chaos of the hallway. Yaz saw the flat through Jules’s eyes and started to panic at the mess. 

“I swear I’ve been going through stuff, but it looks worse than it did this morning.”

Jules shot her a grin. 

“It’s ok, Yaz. Moving is stressful. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve done it and every time I conveniently forget how much effort it takes. And then I regret moving almost instantly.”

Yaz hummed in agreement. She wanted to ask Jules where she’d moved from but it didn’t seem appropriate to jump right in at the deep end. No. A hot drink was in order, especially when she saw Jules shiver slightly, fidgeting with the sling. She frowned. She’d put the heating on and the flat was warm, so much so that she wasn’t even wearing a jumper. It had felt like an indulgence, one justified by the fact that she was expecting a guest, but Jules was clearly chilled to the bone. Yaz felt the urge to pull her into a hug but quickly vetoed the idea, pointing her in the direction of the living room, instead.

“How's your arm?” Yaz asked. “Are you onto physio yet?”

“Not quite,” Jules sighed. “I can’t wait to get out of this sling. Got an appointment next week and then we'll see.”

She eased herself onto the sofa, which had come with the flat; it was smaller than Yaz would have wanted but now it meant that there wouldn’t be much distance separating them. _Silver linings._

“Very comfy sofa,” Jules said in approval, pushing at the cushioning with her good hand as if she was testing it. “Almost as comfy as mine.”

Yaz laughed. 

“Are you that competitive about everything?”

“Pretty much,” Jules admitted, grinning dangerously. It lit up her face in a way that was instantly familiar, a flash of the old Jules that Yaz was so used to seeing on the pitch. “Can’t help myself.”

“Stay put there, then, and see how they compare. I’ll get you a drink. Tea? Coffee?”

“I love tea,” Jules nodded eagerly. “Tea at Yaz’s? Amazing.”

Yaz had forgotten quite how enthusiastic Jules could be and she laughed again at her expression before it warped into one of discomfort when Jules shivered again. 

“Cold out today,” Jules commented, seeing Yaz pick up on the motion. She wrapped her good arm around herself, shrinking into the cushions, and Yaz felt a pang at how small she looked. She wondered if Jules had been looking after herself properly but the signs suggested she hadn’t and for the first time since they’d messaged, Yaz knew she’d done the right thing by keeping in touch. She only wished she’d been a bit bolder and actually gone to visit. The mental image of Jules, alone at home and struggling with it, was not pleasant to contemplate.

“Yeah,” Yaz agreed, keeping her tone light despite the thoughts that plagued her. The last thing she wanted was to sound like a nag, but she was more than a little concerned about the woman now sitting on her sofa. “Want me to get you a blanket or something?”

Jules hesitated, which was answer enough in itself, and Yaz busied herself rummaging in the boxes for her favourite blanket. She was grateful for the task because it gave her something productive to do, other than worrying about Jules. 

“Here.” Yaz unfolded the yellow blanket, which she’d received as a birthday present . Jules’s eyes brightened when she saw the colour and she reached out for it gratefully, huffing as she struggled to arrange it over herself with one hand.

“Let me,” Yaz insisted, letting the folds of the material fall through her fingers as she draped the blanket over Jules’s shoulders. Jules didn’t protest and Yaz found herself fussing a little, particularly when her fingertips briefly brushed over the exposed skin of Jules’s neck and felt how cold she truly was. Jules shivered at the contact and Yaz couldn’t tell if it was from the chill or their proximity.

“Right,” she said, straightening awkwardly. Jules watched her quietly, doe-eyes wide. “I’ll just...boil the kettle.”

* * *

When Yaz returned, mugs in hand, Jules had pulled her legs up onto the couch so she could sit cross-legged, back braced against the arm so that she could face Yaz. Her cheeks were a little pinker than when Yaz had last seen them, at least. She retrieved an arm from beneath the blanket to take hold of the mug Yaz handed her.

“I wasn’t sure how you took it but I can get you some sugar if you like?” Yaz hovered, suddenly uncertain. She’d been so distracted by the thought of Jules in discomfort that she’d forgotten to even ask how she took her tea.

Jules let the aroma infiltrate her senses as she brought the mug up to her mouth. She sighed happily, eyes closed in pleasure, and Yaz found her mind wandering.

“For future reference, I normally take three but I can just about scrape by without.” Jules took a sip, heedless of the temperature. “So stop fussing and sit down. This is perfect.” She took another sip and made a contented sound that turned Yaz’s brain to mush.

Yaz slid wordlessly onto the other side of the couch, realising that she wouldn’t be moving again until they’d talked about the elephant in the room. She shifted, getting comfortable. 

_For future reference_.

The suggestion that there would be some kind of future in which Yaz made Jules tea sank in slowly and Yaz felt it warm her from the inside out. Jules might not want to give much away but she slipped up, every now and again. Yaz lived for those insights. It felt like she was a detective, collecting emotional clues.

Jules was still quiet, sipping her tea as she tried to warm up. She looked like a big kid, draped in a blanket with her knees poking out of the sides, and Yaz briefly wondered how old she actually was. 

_Conversation, Yaz. You can do this. Start with the basics._

“So...how have you been?” Yaz took a sip of her own tea, nearly scalding her mouth. She abandoned the mug on the coffee table for the time being, wondering how Jules was even drinking it.

“Oh, you know...same old,” Jules replied, vaguely. Her eyes started to flit around the room, although Yaz knew there wasn’t much to take in. She’d only put a few books out, and the walls were bare. 

“I don't know about that,” she pushed. “You seem a little...different, I guess.”

Jules frowned, brow crinkling. 

“How do you mean?”

“You seem quieter than usual. I dunno,” Yaz wavered, losing her confidence. Jules didn’t seem defensive, but Yaz felt like she was straying into new territory. Since when was she an expert on how Jules normally acted?

“Guess it's just been a while since I've seen you. I'm used to seeing you striking fear into defenders on the pitch.”

That did the trick, Yaz noted with relief; a gentle smile tugged at Jules’s lips at the mention of football. They had retreated to less shaky ground. 

“Guess it's been a while since I've been in polite company,” Jules admitted, staring into her cup. A beat. “Got a bit lost in my own head.”

Yaz was startled by Jules’s bluntness. Just when Yaz thought she’d understood her, got used to moving around the walls she threw up, Jules surprised her. 

“I know what that can be like,” Yaz replied, emboldened. Perhaps if she was open about herself, Jules might follow suit. “But I'm glad you came over.”

Jules’s answering smile wasn’t quite hidden by the mug, Yaz noted.

“Me too,” she admitted. “You should have told me you were moving, I could have helped.”

Yaz rolled her eyes at Jules’s stubbornness.

“How? Your arm is still in a sling.”

“I’m sure I could have supervised,” Jules grinned. “I’m good at that.” 

There was another pause as they both felt their way around the conversation. Navigating uncharted territory was tricky but exhilarating, and Yaz had no idea where they’d end up.

“So...Bill texted you?” she prompted, asking the question that had been bugging her since Jules had messaged earlier that morning. 

“Yeah. It was a surprise, to be honest, but we've been trying to build bridges, or whatever the saying is.”

Yaz wondered just how much Bill and Jules had discussed _her_. She knew that she’d been mentioned when Jules had apologised to Bill; and now, it seemed, Bill was talking to Jules about her. The intricacies of that particular relationship were still frustratingly vague but Yaz was mollified by the fact that whatever context she was discussed in only ever seemed to be positive. Jules wouldn't be on her sofa, otherwise, she was sure. 

“She seems a bit happier now,” Yaz said. And then: “I hope you don't mind me asking, but what happened between you two?”

Jules grimaced at the question but Yaz held firm. It had been on her mind for months; she’d heard bits and pieces from Bill but now she had a chance to hear the other side of the story and with it, get an insight into who Jules really was. 

When Jules next spoke, her voice wasn’t angry or bitter, but tinged with sadness. She looked melancholy and for a brief moment, Yaz wished she’d kept her mouth shut. But for her own sanity, she really wanted to know what had gone down. 

“It was messy. Honestly, I don't blame her for what happened. I wasn't as attentive as I could have been." 

Jules shifted, getting comfortable. She refused to meet Yaz's gaze, instead staring into the mug in her hands. By now it was empty and Yaz wondered if she was trying to read something in the dregs. 

"We weren't a good match. She seemed to think I was something I’m not.”

_"Do you still have feelings for Jules?"_

_“Maybe I do. It's never that simple is it. Especially when they're the best person you've ever met."_

It was clear that Bill thought highly of Jules, and she wasn’t alone; Yaz had readily agreed with the sentiment. 

Jules, however, was oblivious to the thoughts churning through Yaz's mind. 

"Bill needed to put herself first, before she got hurt. So she ended things, which I didn't fight too hard to keep hold of."

Jules pulled another face and Yaz realised that she was worried about how she was coming across. She couldn't shake the thought that Jules was being too hard on herself. 

"I had no idea she'd ended it," Yaz admitted, hoping Jules would keep talking. "But honestly, I hope you don’t mind me saying but it sounds like it might have been a good thing for both of you."

"Yeah,” Jules agreed, sighing softly. “She tried to get back together a few weeks later but I knew she was right to break things off, so I said no. She started seeing Amy not long after that."

"Oh,” Yaz murmured as another puzzle piece fell into place.

Bill's reluctance to pursue things with Amy properly made a lot more sense now; Amy had been a rebound, and a way for Bill to get a dig in at her ex. Luckily for all of them, Bill and Amy seemed to be a good match. Yaz had a feeling that if that hadn't been the case, she wouldn't even be having this conversation. 

There were so many different ways it could have gone and Yaz had the universe to thank that things had panned out the way they had. Something still niggled at her, though. Yaz mentally cursed her need to get to the bottom of things, even as she asked the question she hoped would resolve matters.

"Jules...what made her end it? There must have been something. Bill is the most laid back person ever. Something must have tipped her off."

"You're not wrong," Jules chuckled, eyes finally flicking up to meet Yaz's gaze. She placed her empty mug on the coffee table, pausing a moment. Yaz waited patiently for her to continue, ignoring her own tea for the time being. What Jules was saying was far more interesting and she was hanging on every word.

"When I left the army, I dealt with things terribly. I went out a lot. I drank a lot. And I met Bill on a night out. You know what Bill's like, she's great. We had a lot of adventures. Lots of good times."

Jules looked off into the distance, eyes fixed on a spot just behind Yaz's shoulder. She looked haunted. Yaz wanted to ask why she’d left the army in the first place but she knew Jules regretted joining, and she had to imagine that her departure had been triggered by something unpleasant.

"But despite all of that, I never let her in. Not properly. Not in the way she should have been. She got some half-baked version of me and she deserved better. And at the end of the day, I let her get hurt because I was too selfish to be alone."

Yaz could sense a shift. Jules was starting to speak faster, words escaping more readily than she seemed to want them to. It was like Yaz had unlocked the floodgates. Jules became agitated, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket with her free hand as she opened up.

"I wanted to be with someone, anyone, because I am not good at being on my own when really...I should have waited.” 

Jules finally looked at her, gaze intent. Her cheeks were flushed and she seemed like she was on the precipice of something important. Like she'd worked her way up to the edge and was ready to step across.

“I should have waited for the right person.”

Yaz held her breath, scared to even speak. The hint couldn’t have been any more obvious but Yaz needed to hear the words. She needed to be sure. She needed to protect herself before she took the leap she so desperately wanted to. 

But the moment stretched on a little too long, and the momentum fell away. Jules sighed heavily, physically shrinking back on herself. 

"Yaz, I've not got the best track record and I really, really don't want to fuck things up like I normally manage to do."

Yaz felt her heart shatter and mend itself all at once. She was so certain that Jules was going to admit to something but the fact that she was scared only cemented in Yaz's mind that they were on the same page. She was bursting with thoughts, gut reactions to everything Jules had said, but she forced herself to take a moment and get them in order. Fawning over how brilliant she thought Jules was would only get her so far, and the last thing she wanted was for Jules to think her genuine feelings towards her were some kind of knee-jerk reaction to what she’d said. 

But Yaz had been waiting for the right moment to speak, and she finally saw her window. Jules had worked her way up to the summit and now she needed Yaz to join her. 

"It's not selfish to want to be with somebody, Jules. It's human. We all want the same thing, at the end of the day. To not be alone." Yaz tried to emphasise every word, let them sink in. 

She saw Jules shake her head slightly, clearly in disagreement. Yaz tried a different tack. Self-preservation wasn't going to help her, and she needed Jules to hear what she was saying. She was clearly lost in her own thoughts - probably had been for weeks - and Yaz wanted more than anything to pull her out of them. 

"You know, I used to think you were a cocky little shit."

Yaz grinned as Jules feigned offence, glad that her tactic to diffuse the tension had worked. 

"Oi!" Jules laughed. "It's all part of my charm."

Yaz rolled her eyes. 

"I'm being serious, though. Hear me out."

Jules mimed zipping her mouth shut and Yaz laughed again. It was a relief to laugh after such a heavy conversation and it helped ease her nerves about what she was about to say. 

"Anyway. I've changed my mind a bit. Even if you are a cocky little shit at times, that doesn't mean you're not also an incredible person, Jules. And you are so, so hard on yourself."

Jules opened her mouth to speak but Yaz held up her hand.

"Keep that mouth zipped," she warned. 

"You know what I think? I think you isolate yourself to try and save people from getting hurt...but all you're doing is making yourself miserable." 

Jules's expression hardened and Yaz wondered if she'd gone too far. She stopped, wary of pushing too hard, but knowing they needed to break new ground if they were to move the conversation forward. 

"It's better that way. I've lost so many people, Yaz. Do you know what it's like to see your best friends die?" Her eyes were glassy, filled with unshed tears that pained Yaz to look at. "In the blink of an eye, they're gone. Getting attached just leads to grief at the end of the day."

Without even seeming to realise what she was going, Jules rubbed absently at the starburst scar on her shoulder.

"Is that what happened there?" Yaz asked. Her heart was pounding. It felt like she'd finally managed to wear down Jules's walls. This was her chance to understand.

"IED." Jules's face crumpled and she stared blankly at the blanket trapped between her fingers. Her voice sounded raw, broken over that one word. Yaz scrambled for a second, trying to remember what it meant. _Improvised explosive device._

Her gasp was muted, thankfully, because Jules continued to talk.

"I was the lucky one, thrown far enough from the vehicle that I survived it. Everyone else on my squad...they weren't quite so lucky."

Yaz felt her own eyes fill with tears, not just at the idea and the pain the memory clearly caused but how despondent Jules seemed. _No wonder she doesn't talk about it._

"The photo…" Yaz murmured, thinking aloud. She felt completely numb, unaware that she’d even said the words aloud until Jules replied.

“Yeah.”

Jules’s voice was strained and Yaz couldn’t take it anymore. The urge to comfort Jules was overwhelming and she reached out for her hand, clenched tight around the blanket. She covered it with her own, relieved when she could feel it relax at the contact. 

Yaz was still reeling from what she’d been told but she had a feeling that Jules didn’t tell many people about it. She was honoured that Jules had shown a different side to herself. 

“No, I don't know what that's like,” she said, after a moment. “I'm so sorry, Jules.”

“You don't need to apologise,” Jules insisted, relinquishing her hold on the blanket and holding Yaz’s hand instead. “You're right, though. Life is too short to waste, and I've wasted lives.” 

“You can't keep thinking like that,” Yaz insisted. “You can't let the past haunt the present. I used to do the same, but all it does is hold you back.”

Yaz thought of her own struggles after she’d tried to run away from home. How terrible she’d felt when she’d returned in the back of a police car, and how the look on her mum’s face had haunted her for months. Her decision to remain at home to appease her family had made it so easy to hide away, but also meant that she’d put her own wants and needs second for far too long. 

Now, though...now, Yaz could pursue what she wanted. _Who_ she wanted. 

“I should follow my advice right now, really,” Yaz laughed wryly, wiping quickly at her eyes with her free hand. 

Jules smiled but it was obvious she didn’t quite follow because she tilted her head, confused. 

“That whole ‘life being too short’ thing...I’ve wasted so much time, Jules. I didn’t know what I was feeling for weeks. It took me a long time to realise.”

The hand in Yaz’s own tightened, as if Jules was encouraging her to be brave.

“Realise…?”

Jules trailed off. Yaz could feel her heart trying to escape her ribcage.

“Realise how I feel about you,” she admitted, forcing herself to maintain eye contact. She watched the words land, the millisecond as Jules heard them and made sense of them. Her face shifted, her eyes crinkling, and Yaz knew they were words that Jules had wanted to hear. Even so, Jules didn’t fully capitulate. 

“I don't want to hurt you, Yaz.”

The mention of her name in context was what Yaz had been waiting for. She wondered how long Jules had felt that way about her, how long they’d been dwelling on shared feelings for one another. The very thought made her more determined than ever that they waste no more time.

“You think I'm afraid?” she asked, the question rhetorical. Her voice was strong and sure. “You think I’m a coward?” 

Jules shook her head.

“I'm no coward,” Yaz continued. “And neither are you.”

She’d effectively laid down the gauntlet and once Yaz saw Jules’s gaze drift towards her lips, she felt courage surge through her. It was all the permission she needed to do what she’d wanted to do for weeks - months, if she was being honest with herself - and kiss the woman sitting in front of her. 

Yaz heard Jules’s breathing hitch as they moved closer, leaning in like they were drawn to one other, like it was inevitable that they’d meet in the middle. The rest of the world seemed to fall away, and all Yaz could think about was the woman sitting right in front of her; the way she looked at that exact moment, the way she breathed. Her eyes were beautiful up close.

Intuition drove her onward, arms braced against the cushions so that she wouldn’t fall into Jules, as much as she might want to. She wanted to do this right. 

_Slow and steady wins the race._

“Yaz…” Jules sighed, letting go of Yaz’s hand to reach up and rest her palm on the back of Yaz’s neck, enticing her to lean in. She licked her lips, breath hitching, and when Yaz saw the brief flash of Jules’s tongue her thoughts derailed entirely. 

Basic instinct kicked in as she felt Jules’s breath against her lips. They were so close now that Yaz let her eyes drift closed as she moved on autopilot, anticipating the feel of soft lips against her own, and then a shrill noise startled her so badly that she nearly headbutted Jules in alarm. 

“Shit,” she blurted, spooked by the sound and utterly confused at what had interrupted them so rudely at such a crucial moment. The world abruptly came back into focus and Yaz wished it would go away. She’d been very happy in her bubble.

But Jules was laughing, then groaning as she let herself fall back against the sofa. 

“Your phone,” she explained. “I think your phone is ringing.”

Yaz got to her feet unsteadily, thoroughly discombobulated. She didn’t even know where she’d left her phone and the blood roaring in her ears was depriving her of rational thought.

“Yaz. It’s on the coffee table.”

“Oh. Right,” she murmured, whirling to snag it and silence the wretched noise. 

Sonya’s name flashed up and she rejected the call, muting it without guilt. She could murder her sister and her sense of timing.

“My sister,” she explained, shoving the wretched device in her pocket. She’d taken it off silent earlier that day so that she could hear any messages from Jules come through while she attempted to unpack. She’d essentially sabotaged herself.

“Ah. Probably wondering how you’re getting on, I reckon. I should let you get on with things,” Jules said, making a move to get off the couch as she looked pointedly at the boxes Yaz had yet to unpack. 

Even so, Jules didn’t seem entirely enthused by the idea of leaving. But Yaz knew they wouldn’t be able to just pick up where they’d left off. Besides, Jules looked exhausted. Yaz felt more than a little tired herself, drained by the emotional conversation they’d just had, never mind the near-kiss. Although she wanted Jules to stay more than anything, there was no point in rushing things. It could do them more harm than good. 

“Yeah. You should get some rest,” she sighed, offering out a hand to help Jules up. The blanket fell to the floor, ignored, as Jules got to her feet. She was only a little taller than Yaz but she’d never noticed their height difference before - the only other times they’d been this close were on the pitch, and even then it was only ever in passing. 

They didn’t let go of one another until they got to the door. Jules reluctantly relinquished her hold on Yaz’s hand as she stepped outside.

“I’ll see you soon?” Jules asked, expression hopeful. 

“You will,” Yaz affirmed, already wondering when they could see each other again. The prospect was more than a little exciting. 

And then her heart felt like it skipped a beat because Jules suddenly leaned in, brushing a kiss against her cheek and lingering for a beat longer than was normally polite. Yaz willed herself to stay calm but she could smell washing powder, warm skin, and something that was uniquely Jules. 

“See ya.”

Yaz watched as Jules retreated down the stairs, then shut the door and let her forehead come to rest on it. She just needed a moment and then she’d be a fully functioning human being again. At least, she hoped so.

How could a simple kiss on the cheek have wrecked her so badly? 

Yaz moved through the flat on autopilot, tidying up their mugs and contemplating calling her sister back. But when she picked up the blanket from the floor, she realised it smelled of Jules and after a moment of hesitation she held it to her face, breathing deep. 

Yeah. She really had it bad.


	16. Berlin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well the past week didn't quite pan out as expected so thank you for bearing with me ❤️ this was half-written out of order at the time it all went a bit tits up so it was strange to come back to it and try and stick it together. Hopefully it reads alright, I'm not entirely sure but I’m also aware that I haven’t updated this in nearly a week and I hate to leave you guys waiting! Those who follow me on Twitter may have had a sneak peak of what’s to come in the penultimate chapter.
> 
> Anyway: who else remembers the disastrous trip to Germany in Bend it like Beckham? Hopefully this one doesn't end quite as badly 😉 Thank you all for your lovely feedback so far, it really means the world to me! Honestly I can't say it enough, it's kept me going. 
> 
> Also...this made me think of Jules and also laugh aloud  
> https://twitter.com/dailyyvibess/status/1254985723469389824?s=19

Yaz had to take a cool shower not long after Jules had left, as tempting as it had been to resolve the tension in other ways. It had been the longest shower of her life, and it had done only a little to calm her racing thoughts. She was still flustered when she emerged half an hour later, wondering if it might actually have been more environmentally friendly to go with plan B. 

On the flipside, she spent so long in the shower that when she finally emerged, Jules had texted. It was a simple message, thanking Yaz for the tea and asking how her week was looking. Yaz wanted to reply immediately and had to tell herself to play it cool. The potential of a date was clearly on the cards, even though neither of them had said as much, but Yaz made herself wait at least an hour before she replied. That gave her plenty of time to call Sonya. It felt strange, calling her sister; living together had meant it was rarely a necessity. 

Still, Yaz felt a little guilty at how distracted she was on the phone. As soon as Sonya started to talk about her plans for the weekend, Yaz’s thoughts drifted to her own. She had work tomorrow, then some extra shifts that she’d agreed to, so that she could take the weekend off for the trip to Berlin in a fortnight. She wondered when Jules’s hospital appointment was. Perhaps she could drive her to it. 

_“What do you think?”_

Yaz snapped back to the present.

“Hmm?” she queried, at a loss.

 _“About the clothes. Yaz, were you listening to a word I just said?”_ Sonya sounded distinctly unimpressed but then, she often did.

“I was,” Yaz protested, but she knew that her sister could hear the lie, even through the phone.

“Alright then. Which one?”

_“Er...the pink one?”_

Yaz heard Sonya sigh dramatically down the line and couldn’t help but smile at her sister’s histrionics. She always spent far too long thinking about what to wear on nights out. 

_“You’re lucky you don’t live here anymore or you’d be getting the cold shoulder. What’s got you so distracted?”_

“Nothing,” Yaz replied instantly. “It’s just hard to picture your outfits without being there,” she pointed out, which was a reasonable comment. “And I’m just thinking about how much there is left to unpack.”

That wasn’t exactly a lie; the size of the task remaining was considerable given how little free time she now had, and her progress had been delayed by Jules’s impromptu visit. Not that Yaz would have changed that for the world. She eyed the yellow blanket sitting on the sofa.

_“I’d offer to help, but...you know. Plans.”_

Yaz rolled her eyes. 

“Yeah. I get it. Right social butterfly, you are. How about I let you know when it’s done and you can come over?”

_“Yeah? Does that mean I get to be the first lucky person to see your new place?”_

“Almost,” Yaz conceded, reluctant to deflate her sister’s enthusiasm but she also knew she needed to bring up the topic of Jules before too long. Even though they no longer lived together, with the way things were going, Yaz hoped that Jules would be quite a big part of her life in the not-too-distant future. She hoped she wasn’t tempting fate just by thinking about it.

_Yaz, you’ve been there for less than 48 hours. Who got to see it before your own sister? Even mum and dad are waiting ‘til you’ve settled in.”_

Yaz took a shaky breath. She knew Sonya wouldn’t judge her but she wondered how she’d react.

“Jules came over.”

Sonya started to laugh and Yaz felt the tension leave her, although she was a little put out by her sister’s reaction.

_“Is that why you moved out? The moment you have your own place, you make a booty call. Keep it in your pants, Yaz!”_

“Shut up,” Yaz muttered, cheeks flaming. “You’re lucky you’re getting to see my place at all.”

 _“Well that’s just mean,”_ Sonya griped. _“Don’t forget who’s giving you a lift to the airport.”_

Yaz grimaced. She’d forgotten her sister was doing her a favour. 

“Alright, alright. You can see it when you come and pick me up. And on that note...I really need to get back to it. I’ll speak to you later?”

Sonya hung up with a threat to visit before the end of the weekend but Yaz knew that she would more than likely spend most of the following day asleep if she was going out that evening. 

Phone call successfully returned, Yaz finally replied to Jules. 

_Lots of shifts but only so I can go to Berlin. When’s your appointment?_

Yaz left her phone on silent, determined to focus on unpacking some more boxes, but the urge to check if after only a few minutes yielded a surprise. 

_Tuesday, 3pm. I was thinking...maybe we could meet up afterwards? If you like._

Yaz grinned and was almost going to reply in the affirmative when she remembered that she actually couldn’t make that, at all, or even drive Jules to her appointment because she was stuck in the station for that afternoon in some unnecessary training exercise. In fact, her only free window was on Friday night, when she’d already promised her parents she’d pop home for dinner. 

Her good mood started to evaporate as they texted back and forth, before Yaz finally had to acknowledge that her schedule was so jam-packed that she had no sufficiently free time until the weekend away. 

_Don’t worry, Yaz. At least by then I’ll be fully functional._

Yaz swallowed hard at the implication. It wasn’t hard to read between the lines but she had no idea how to reply and the last thing she wanted to do was kill the conversation. 

Instead, she hid her phone and focused on the task at hand because as their text conversation had just made abundantly clear, she only had the remainder of the afternoon to get her flat in half-decent shape and as tempting as it was to spend the time talking with Jules, Yaz knew she had to get her shit together. Two weeks wasn’t that long, in the grand scheme of things. She just needed to get her head straight, which was made very difficult by the imagery her brain conjured up at Jules’s words. 

Words that hung over her, waiting for a response.

“That does it.” Yaz didn’t care if she was speaking to herself, although she made a mental note not to get into the habit. She didn’t want her neighbours thinking she was nuts.

She fished out her phone again, resigned to the fact that she couldn’t concentrate on anything until she replied. After a few moments, she thought of something equally vague. 

_Are you sure about that? Wouldn’t want you overdoing it. Maybe I can give you a hand with your physio?_

She cringed slightly at the message and sank back onto the sofa, watching the three dots dance across the bottom of her screen. She hadn’t put Jules off, at least.

_If it makes you feel any better, I can take my time. I’m in no hurry._

Yaz groaned as she imagined Jules doing just that with her. The room felt suddenly warm and she opened a window, hoping the fresh air would clear her mind. Jules wasn’t having any of it, though, because she sent another message.

_It's a shame you never really showed me your flat. I was really looking forward to seeing the bedroom :)_

Yaz laughed aloud at the cheeky message.

_I’m pretty sure you’ll get to see it. But only once this flat is in order. So...behave yourself and stop giving me ideas or I’ll be living among boxes forevermore x_

She felt her face flushing despite the cool breeze and when she saw Jules’s reply, she couldn’t stop grinning. 

It was a selfie of Jules doing a mock salute, and despite her serious expression Yaz could see the mirth in her eyes. 

_Yes, boss. X_

With great reluctance, Yaz put her phone away for good. For the rest of that afternoon she was practically useless, completely unable to concentrate and finding herself daydreaming with a dopey grin on her face. In the end, she just about managed to finish unpacking at 1am, falling into bed before starting two weeks of shifts that left her absolutely exhausted. 

* * *

**2 weeks later**

As Yaz had feared, two weeks was, in fact, a very long time when all one did was work and sleep. 

_All work and no play makes Yaz a dull girl._

At one point, Yaz almost felt like she’d slipped back into her old habits, but it didn’t take long for her to recall that her life had changed for the better. Coming home at the end of a shift to a quiet apartment was soothing to the soul, and her regular texts with Jules were a highlight of every day, even if they didn’t get to physically see one another. Having to keep her phone in her locker during work hours was torture but it meant that she always had something to look forward to at the end of her shift.

The thought of Jules was like the light at the end of the tunnel. Football didn’t even come into the equation, and Yaz had to forcibly remind herself why she was going to Berlin in the first place. As a result, she didn’t even pack until the morning of the flight, a decision she regretted when it came to selecting clothes to wear on the night out they’d apparently arranged with the German teams. Yaz haphazardly shoved her kit inside the suitcase, but after 10 minutes of scanning her wardrobe she gave up, texting her sister and asking her to bring some of her own clothes when she came over.

“As if you just asked for another favour,” Sonya grumbled when Yaz opened the door. She was carrying several hangers and Yaz beckoned her inside, eager to see what she’d brought. 

They were rapidly running out of time to get to the airport and Yaz was getting even more stressed about what to wear. Now she could understand why her sister spent so much time choosing outfits: she’d never really had to give it much thought before, but she knew that Jules would be there and that she desperately wanted to make a lasting impression.

“I know, I know. Sorry,” Yaz apologised. “I just needed something that wasn’t jumpers and jeans. Berlin is way cooler than Sheffield.”

“Good thing I’ve got such good taste.” Sonya raised an eyebrow, laying out her choices. Yaz groaned aloud when she realised that all of them were dresses. 

“I thought you wanted to wear my clothes?” Sonya pointed out, crossing her arms. 

“Yeah, well...I forgot you wear so many girly things,” Yaz huffed, mulling over her options. Most of them were a bit shorter than she felt comfortable with but there was one, a simple black number, which she held up to scrutinise properly. 

“That’ll do,” she said, frowning at the material. It looked clingy but at least it was long enough. The shape was hard to gauge, but she had to hope her sister had chosen wisely. 

“That’ll do?” Sonya spluttered. “That dress cost me a month’s wages. You’d better look after it,” she warned, and Yaz knew that was no idle threat. 

“I will,” Yaz muttered, tugging it off the hanger and folding it neatly. Sonya supervised her carefully. 

“You’ll knock their socks off, I promise. Come on, though, traffic’s already heaving.”

As they made their way to the airport, Yaz could feel her nerves mounting. She was excited to see her team, anxious about the game they were due to play that afternoon - they hadn’t properly practiced in weeks - and, most of all, nervous about seeing Jules again. It didn’t help that they would have no time alone, at least not until much later. 

But just as Sonya pulled up to the kerb to drop her off, Yaz gawped out of the windscreen. Jules was outside of the revolving doors by departures, making a phone call. She looked less skinny than she had when Yaz had last seen her, and her arm was no longer in a sling. Her hair was back up in its scruffy ponytail and Yaz watched her face as she talked, trying to figure out the nature of the conversation she was having. Either way, she looked a lot happier and healthier than she had before and Yaz was relieved. Seeing Jules at ease helped put her at ease. But she’d looked for too long and given the game away. Sonya was watching her suspiciously. 

“What are you staring at?”

“Nothing,” Yaz murmured, fumbling with her seatbelt. “I’ll see you tomorrow night? You’re still alright to give me a lift back, yeah?”

Sonya nodded, looking over to the doors as she tried to figure out what had caught her sister’s attention. Yaz could see the moment she spied Jules.

“That’s her, isn’t it?” Sonya’s eyes widened. “That’s Jules?”

“Maybe,” Yaz admitted. To her disappointment, Jules had apparently ended her phone call and was already making her way back inside. Through the glass, Yaz could see the rest of her team standing just indoors. Perhaps they’d get a chance to talk in Berlin, after the game, she reassured herself. Even better, they might get some time alone. Maybe in a hotel room. Yaz felt her nerves amplify for an entirely new reason.

“Well, well, well,” Sonya drawled. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Yaz burst out in anxious laughter as she emerged from the car. She was certain what she wanted to do was so far removed that it wasn’t even on Sonya’s radar.

“Pretty sure I can manage that.”

* * *

Yaz didn’t see Jules until much, much later. Even when they’d changed for the games, the mood in the locker room was so lively that there was no way they could have a private conversation. That didn’t stop Yaz from looking for Jules, only to find that Jules was already watching her, half-changed, half-chatting with Donna. 

Yaz waved briefly and forced herself to calm down. They had a game to play, first. The whole reason they were even in Berlin to begin with. 

It passed in a blur, in the end; getting back into the swing of things after an extended break was a challenge and kept Yaz’s mind from wandering too much. The chilly air, the strange environment, and the unpredictable opponents all added up to a very distracting game of football, which was apparently just what Yaz needed to get out of her own head for a bit. 

But it didn’t take long for the nervous energy to return, even after the game had tired her out. Yaz had taken her time in the shower, hoping for some time alone with Jules, who she could hear laughing in the adjoining room. The volume had quieted somewhat as the others had left, and only a handful remained, judging by the fact that Yaz could only really hear Jules talking. 

“As if! Donna, you were too busy flirting with the ref to even notice.”

Donna’s response was lost under the sound of the running water but Yaz was only really keeping an ear out for Jules, anyway. She had a feeling that she was being deliberately slow to get ready, too. It was clear they both wanted to speak to one another.

When Yaz finally emerged from the shower, her guess had been correct; the locker room was essentially empty except for Jules - who was still only half dressed in a bra and a pair of cosy jogging bottoms - and Donna and Martha, who were chatting quietly as they packed away their muddy football boots. 

Jules instantly locked onto her as Yaz made her way across the room, feeling self-conscious in just a towel but trying to exude confidence anyway. She was sure she could sense Jules’s gaze follow her.

“We’ll just…” Martha started to speak and grabbed Donna’s arm.

“What?” Donna asked, oblivious.

“We’re leaving, aren’t we?” Martha was still grinning but her words escaped from clenched teeth as she increased her grip.

“Are we? I was going to ask- OW!”

Jules chuckled as Donna rubbed at her arm. Martha made some very unsubtle gestures with her head, and Yaz could see the moment it finally dawned on the other woman.

“Oh!” Donna exclaimed, loudly, as if she was surprised. “Ohhhh. Yes, that’s right. We’re off.”

With a lewd smile, she and Martha finally left the room and Yaz let out the breath she’d been holding. She turned to look at Jules, who’d made no move to dress herself, and Yaz made a conscious effort to keep her eyes above chest level. 

“Are you not going to get dressed?” Jules asked, eyebrow raised as she gestured at Yaz’s towel. “You’ll get cold.”

As much as Yaz wanted to question Jules’s logic given her own state of undress, she saw a window of opportunity.

“Feels pretty warm in here to be honest.”

Yaz let her gaze drift south, skirting over the outline of Jules’s abs and over the waistband of her trousers. 

“Really?” Jules frowned, concerned. Yaz wondered if she’d been a bit too subtle when Jules walked over and put her palm on her forehead. 

“You do seem a bit flushed.” 

Her hazel eyes gazed straight into Yaz’s own and Yaz resisted the urge to look away from the intensity of her stare. 

“Your pupils are dilated,” Jules continued, her other hand drifting down to Yaz’s wrist and snaring it between two fingers and a thumb. 

The simple touch sent Yaz spiralling. She wanted Jules’s hands all over her. But the other woman seemed restrained, almost clinical. 

“And your pulse is racing.”

Then, Jules smirked, tilting her head. 

“Oh dear, Yaz. What _are_ we going to do with you?”

Jules finally dropped the facade, stepping closer. Yaz inhaled the little air that remained between them. If she breathed in deeply enough, she was pretty certain they’d touch. 

“You know exactly what,” Yaz murmured, licking her lips. “You’re such a tease.” Her hands were fisted in the towel, but then they moved of their own accord, abandoning their grip so that her fingers could comb through Jules’s hair instead. She wasn’t going to risk another near-miss.

She pulled, just slightly, and then Jules was dipping her head. For a millisecond, Yaz wasn’t sure what happened; there was soft warmth pressing against her lips and hair tickling her cheeks, a cold nose brushing against her own. Her brain short-circuited and then it kicked into overdrive, putting two and two together and informing her, quite happily, that Jules was finally, finally kissing her.

Within moments it had turned heated, and Yaz didn’t know who was moaning quite so enthusiastically - she had a feeling it was her - because she couldn’t bring herself to care about anything other than the fact that Jules was actually kissing her. Jules, who she’d thought she didn’t like, who had worked her way past her defences so easily that it took Yaz’s breath away. 

She pulled away to breathe, but Jules didn’t let up, swooping in seconds later as she felt Yaz’s lips open against hers and sliding her tongue inside Yaz’s mouth in a way that was both completely decadent and absolutely filthy. She stroked her tongue against Yaz’s own so confidently that Yaz could feel her knees growing weak at the attention.

Jules was a very good kisser, Yaz mused. It was the only concept she could make sense of for several minutes as the other woman thoroughly deprived her of rational thought. Yaz was sure she was nowhere near as skilled and was actually probably coming across as a little desperate, but she gave as good as she got, trying to keep up as best she could. 

The stimulation felt like too much and not enough all at once and Yaz moaned in frustration. It was like an itch that she couldn’t scratch and one that only Jules was equipped to deal with. Preferably by doing more than kissing the life out of her. 

But after several long moments, Jules reluctantly pulled away. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes were darker than Yaz had ever seen them. She looked almost dangerous, but rather than be scared, Yaz was thrilled. She moved backwards blindly as Jules nudged her towards the nearest wall.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for months,” Jules admitted, eyes dancing. She seemed almost predatory in the way she looked at Yaz. 

To hear Jules say the words aloud was notable, Yaz knew, but the fact of the matter was that she could barely string three words together, never mind ruminate on how long things had been brewing between them. The evidence was right there, in plain view, proven by her physiological reaction to a simple kiss.

“Don’t remind me,” Yaz groaned, still panting for breath. It hitched as Jules’s hands came to rest on her hips. A layer of damp towel lay between them but it felt like fire where Jules touched her. A few moments later and one of her hands was teasing the hem of the material. Yaz was naked underneath and there were no barriers between them should that hand make its way inside the flimsy barrier.

She could already feel that she was incredibly turned on, but the logical part of her brain was screaming for attention. 

_Surely they weren’t going to..._

As much as Yaz wanted to move things forward, she also knew she didn’t want their first time to be some quick fling in a chilly locker room. 

“Wait,” Yaz gasped. “Here?”

“Well you're already basically naked,” Jules pointed out, her tone teasing. “All I’d need to do is just…”

She looked at Yaz for permission, cheeky grin firmly in place. It was getting harder to think straight, particularly when Yaz felt fingertips brush the bare skin of her thigh. 

But before she could reply either way, Jules whipped her hand away and took a step back. 

Yaz slumped back against the wall just as Clara entered the room, singing to herself. 

“Oh! I didn’t realise there were still people here,” she beamed, and Yaz tried to get her breathing under control. Jules was strangely quiet, rummaging in her bag for a t-shirt, which she finally threw on. Yaz was both relieved and disappointed that she was finally dressed. It was very hard to resist temptation when all that skin was on show. 

“Don’t mind me, I just forgot my towel,” Clara supplied, folding the item in question painfully slowly.

It helped to know that Jules was just as flustered as she was, but Yaz was certain she could have cried at the interruption. Her pulse had moved to between her legs and she shoved them together in an attempt to mute it.

“You guys are awfully quiet,” Clara commented, finally realising that she was the only person talking. “Did I interrupt something?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Yaz laughed at the confusion on Clara’s face and wished she’d denied it, like Jules had, because Clara was quicker than Yaz gave her credit for. 

“Alright, well I’ll just...leave you to it,” Clara emphatically winked at Yaz, who rubbed a hand across her face in response. The moment was well and truly gone but on the plus side, her composure was slowly returning. 

Just as she was about to finally leave, Clara stopped and Yaz bit back a groan of frustration.

"In case you forgot, we have a meal planned with those teams later tonight. Graham's idea. You know he'd be disappointed if you didn't make it…”

Clara trailed off with that not-so-subtle hint, and finally departed. 

“Your hearing is insanely good,” Yaz sighed, tugging her towel tighter around herself. After all that had just transpired, she didn’t want Jules to see her naked. Not yet, anyway. 

“So I’ve heard,” Jules agreed, apparently picking up on Yaz’s discomfort. “Probably for the best, though,” she admitted bashfully. “I got a bit carried away.” 

“You and me both,” Yaz agreed, relieved that Jules was on the same page. “I can see why, though. You've been wanting to do that for months?" she asked.

Jules hefted her bag onto her good shoulder and closed the distance between them. 

"From the moment I first saw you," she admitted brazenly, and Yaz almost choked. Jules grinned, leaning in to speak quietly by Yaz's ear. Given the interruption they'd just endured, it was a wise move.

“I meant what I said, Yaz,” she murmured. “I can take my time. I’m in no hurry.”

Jules brushed a lingering kiss against Yaz’s cheek, and then she was gone. Her absence was tangible.

Yaz took several calming breaths but even then, when she reached for her clothes, her hands were trembling. That had been a close call, in more ways than one. But the night was still young, and she couldn’t wait to see what it had in store.


	17. Dancing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right. So. The end of this fic is just...evolving...as I write it. The outline is the same but I can’t stop writing and I really didn’t want a huge chapter that was only half smut, so eagle-eyed readers will have noticed an extra chapter has been added. This is also why there have been two updates in 48 hours :) Welcome to the way my mind overthinks things. 
> 
> Alas that does mean the rating change won’t happen until the next (new) chapter ;) which is currently pretty epic in terms of length and might make up a bit for this shorter one :) 
> 
> I can't believe that in this and in An Education it took them 17 chapters to kiss. It must be my lucky number. If I ever write another slow-burn I’ll have to make it even slower so as not to be predictable...

Bill’s wolf whistle did nothing to put Yaz at ease and she tugged at the hem of the dress for the umpteenth time that evening. She wasn’t used to wearing dresses, for a start, but this particular outfit was clinging to her like a second skin and even though it had been the longest of Sonya’s offerings, it was still a little on the short side for Yaz to be truly comfortable with the amount of leg she had on show.

That wasn’t to mention the back, which was far lower than Yaz had realised when she’d first picked it out. She cursed her lack of foresight because it had led to her choosing an outfit in a rush and not even having time to try it on. Thankfully, her coat hid the exposed skin of her shoulders and offered a modicum of decency. Yaz wasn’t looking forward to taking the outer layer off, but she’d cross that bridge when she came to it.

Because she’d been so slow to leave the changing rooms and even slower to get ready when she realised precisely what she’d brought to wear on their night out, Yaz was the last of their group to arrive in the hotel lobby. Jules’s team was already there, apparently waiting for everyone to be ready so they could travel together to the restaurant; they were currently being regaled by one of Graham’s stories. Bill’s wolf whistle drew everyone’s attention and Yaz could feel her face flaming as they all made appreciative noises when they saw her.

“Holy shit, Yaz. You look smoking,” Bill said, a sentiment that was readily echoed by several of the others. The rest of the team looked similarly dressed to the nines, albeit in far more practical clothing. Yaz seemed to have the most skin on show by a long way. 

“Please never say that again,” Yaz grumbled, tugging at the dress one more time for good measure. She could have sworn it crept up as she walked, but the fabric would move no further south, despite her best efforts. It probably was a nice dress, Yaz realised, judging by the reactions; it just wasn’t really her style.

But her reservations about the dress faded away when she saw Jules do a double-take at the sight of her. At first, Yaz assumed the jaw-drop was in some kind of shock at her appearance, but when she saw Jules give her an appreciative once-over it gave her just the boost she needed. Yaz made a mental note to thank her sister for her sartorial choices and, head held high, she followed her team-mates to the taxi rank outside. As tempting as it was to look back and acknowledge Jules, Yaz realised an opportunity when she saw one. 

There was no doubt about the evening was going to end, or at least, how they both wanted it to end. But Jules had told her she could take her time and that she was in no rush, just before she left Yaz in an uncomfortable state of arousal. Two could play at that game. Confidence bolstered, Yaz knew she’d have a hard job of avoiding the other woman all evening, but she’d do it if it meant she could torture Jules in return. They’d waited this long that prolonging the inevitable over the next few hours would surely make things a bit more interesting. 

Really, Yaz wanted Jules to crack first. She’d worn down her walls to the point where it was feasible but Yaz wanted the final move to come from Jules herself. Yaz had been the one to navigate them to this point; Jules had allowed Yaz glimpses of herself but it hadn’t been an easy ride. And now, Yaz could see the bigger picture. She could understand the importance of what lay before them. She also knew that if she looked at Jules the way she really wanted to, the others would pick up on it almost instantly, and that was the last thing she needed to deal with.

She jumped into a taxi with Bill, Amy, and Rose, all of whom had apparently started pre-drinking. Yaz knew she wanted to remember the evening and had told herself she’d stay away from alcohol, but it didn’t stop her from enjoying their tipsy antics, which included serenading the taxi driver with a mangled German version of 99 Red Balloons. 

Yaz tipped him extra.

Dinner turned out to be a rather protracted affair in a traditional restaurant that their hosts had chosen; it also involved several rambling speeches about the benefits of inter-continental football that Yaz barely paid attention to. 

Instead, she could feel Jules watching her like a hawk from the other end of the table. Yaz had relinquished her coat at the door and, thankfully, made it to the table before Jules even arrived; their timings meant that Jules was sat down at the far end, but on the opposite side and still, apparently, within eyeshot. There must have been about 60 people gathered around several large tables but Yaz could only concentrate on one person in that room. 

Yaz raised her glass in yet another toast and subtly glanced at her watch. It was already 8pm and the evening showed no signs of drawing to a close. If anything, Yaz knew there would be a push to the bar a few doors down, which Bill had already eyed up on the way in. Yaz's plan was starting to backfire; at this rate, she wouldn’t get Jules to herself for several hours. She was already starting to crumble under the intense desire to just grab Jules and make a run for it. 

But just as Yaz was rueing her decision to play it cool, Jules made her presence known. 

The first thing Yaz was aware of was a subtle warmth at her back, then a gentle pressure on the back of her chair and a soothing voice in her ear. She’d tied her hair up and the feel of warm breath on the back of her neck made her shiver, the baby hairs standing on end because of the proximity of the person behind her. Without even turning, Yaz knew who it was. 

“Nice dress,” Jules murmured, and then she was gone, apparently on her way to the bathroom. Yaz couldn’t help but watch as she sauntered off, white shirt and black skinny jeans that fit in all the right places. Even though it was a relatively plain outfit, Yaz's eyes were drawn to Jules's forearms, which were exposed by her rolled-up sleeves, and to the hint of the bra she could see beneath the shirt. The outfit might have been simple but the more Yaz saw, the more she realised just how good Jules looked. She could have worn a bow tie and pulled it off, Yaz knew; Jules would look good in anything.

_She'd look even better without clothes._

Yaz only realised she was gawking when Rose threw some bread at her across the table.

"You'll have to get through dinner before dessert," Rose smirked. Yaz gave her the finger, at which Rose burst into laughter and said something so rude that Yaz smacked her hand on the table in a bid to hide it.

"Ow," she grumbled, throwing daggers at Rose but grinning despite herself. She should have known better than to whip out rude gestures at this point of the evening. 

To her dismay, three courses followed, during which time everyone in the room got progressively drunker. Except for Jules, Yaz noted, who seemed to be drinking her beers far slower than everyone else, despite their entreaties for her to join in and to stop being a “party pooper.”

Yaz stifled a giggle as one of their German hosts asked for an explanation of the term from Ryan, who was too drunk to understand what he was being asked. 

“Y’alright, Yaz?” Bill slurred slightly, draping an arm heavily across the back of Yaz’s chair. They’d been chatting intermittently throughout the evening, although Yaz knew she’d been quiet; she’d been preoccupied with thoughts of the woman at the other end of their table.

“Yeah. You know what? I am,” Yaz smiled, genuinely content. For the first time in her life, it truly felt like things were coming together. Her patience had paid off. But Yaz also knew that explaining that concept to Bill at this particular moment might be a bit of a lost cause, judging by the way her eyes refused to focus. 

“How are you, Bill? How are things with Amy?” she prodded, nodding at the woman who was sitting behind Bill and trying to explain the finer points of Scottish swear words to one of the German players.

Bill grinned dopily. “Pretty good, actually,” she admitted. “Our chat made me think about a lot of things, Yaz. Long and hard. Amy’s great. And we’re keeping things interesting, y’know. We’ve started doing this thing, where one of us-”

“Wait,” Yaz interrupted, suspicious of where the conversation was going. “Is this a sex thing? ‘Cos Bill, I really do love you, but I really don’t want to know.”

Bill wasn’t remotely offended. 

“D’awww. I love you too, Yaz. C’mere.”

Yaz was pulled into a clumsy hug and gave Amy a reassuring thumbs up over Bill’s shoulder. She surmised that one day, she and Jules might be the same as Bill and Amy; just two people trying to make a go of it. But right now, things were new and exciting. Yaz was glad she hadn’t rushed into things with Jules because the anticipation of what was to come was truly thrilling. She felt like they’d barely scratched the surface.

Even so, when they finally settled the bill - no mean feat given the number of people at the table - Yaz was nervous. She was one step closer to where she wanted to be. She’d fulfilled her social obligations without giving anything away, although on the walk to the coat check she realised her efforts might have been in vain when Martha, Rose, and Clara all turned around at once to look at her, speaking quietly between themselves. It was so unnerving that it almost stopped Yaz in her tracks. 

“Ignore them,” Jules suggested as she appeared beside her, and Yaz almost jumped out of her skin. She hadn’t heard Jules approaching and she certainly didn’t expect the comfort of a hand on her lower back. It was an intimate touch and Yaz briefly wondered who could see it, and then found that she didn’t care. She had no idea that the feel of a hand on her back could make her feel so warm inside. 

“Oh my god,” Yaz breathed, hand on her chest. She could feel her heart racing for all sorts of reasons. “Where did you come from?”

Jules’s eyes crinkled with laughter.

“Are you sure you want me to answer that one? I can give you all sorts of lines, if you like, but I think I’ll spare you that nonsense.”

Jules’s eyes looked briefly at Yaz’s lips before she made a concerted effort to look outside. 

“Come on. Don’t want to keep them waiting, do we?”

Yaz sighed internally. She knew how team socials went; this part of the evening could go on for several hours and get progressively messier. But it would be even more suspicious to sneak away and it was clear that their absence would be noted.

“Alright,” Yaz agreed, pointing out her coat to the attendant once they approached the counter. Jules snagged it before Yaz could and held it up, waiting for Yaz to slip into it. 

“I can do that,” Yaz protested, hesitating only briefly when Jules shrugged in reply. 

“I know. But this is more fun.”

Jules ran her hands over the sides of the coat, a confident manoeuvre that left Yaz reeling. Not for the first time, Yaz wondered when Jules had become so smooth. She hid it well on the pitch, but Yaz had realised over time that whatever face Jules put on was sometimes different to her true self.

They chatted quietly, bringing up the rear of the group and making bets on who would be the first to call it a night. 

“Bill, for sure. I’ve never seen her this drunk,” Jules laughed, and Yaz was relieved to see that there really was no ill will between them. She shook her head nonetheless.

“I don’t know about that. Amy’s doing a pretty good job of keeping her upright,” she pointed out. 

“Fair point,” Jules mused, squinting her eyes as she tried to make out who had just fallen over. Ryan, by the look of it, but he was being aided to his feet by Graham. “Clara’s pretty small but also deadly...I’m sure she can handle her booze.”

Yaz bit back a grin as she felt Jules reach for her hand and link their fingers together. The words Jules spoke next fell on deaf ears; Yaz could only seem to focus on one sense at a time and right now her sense of touch was overwhelmed. She remembered how she'd struggled to stay upright when they'd kissed only hours ago, and wondered if she’d actually survive the rest of the evening once they were actually alone.

“Donna. Definitely Donna.”

Donna, in fact, lasted much longer than either of them expected, even trying to start a mass singalong in the bar. It was far cooler than any bar Yaz had ever visited in Sheffield and, judging from the clientele, Donna was going to be singing on her own provided she wasn’t kicked out before then. 

Yaz settled on one of the free seats, leaving Jules to deal with Donna. She made a concerted effort to throw herself into conversation in a last-ditch attempt to ignore the fact that she was incredibly turned on. To her relief and mild disappointment, Jules didn’t come over for another half hour; whenever Yaz scoped her out, she was enthusiastically chatting with someone. After a while, Yaz stopped pretending and, under the cover of darkness, watched Jules as she made her way around the room. 

“I’m jealous,” Clara said, leaning on Yaz’s shoulder in an over-familiar way that made Yaz feel warm and fuzzy inside. She still had to pinch herself sometimes that she’d fallen into such a great team of women who had made her feel included and welcome from day one. 

“Jealous? What of?” 

“She’s just so...charming, isn’t she? She makes it look effortless.” Clara looked at Yaz to gauge her reaction. “I can see why you like her. And, I’ve got to say, I’m a little jealous of you, too.”

Yaz pulled a face of disbelief.

“What? What are you on about?”

“The only person in here she really has eyes for is you,” Clara intoned, and although she was fairly drunk, Yaz knew she was deadly serious. 

“I don’t think-”

“Shh,” Clara put a finger up to Yaz’s lips. “Yaz. Listen to me. Whatever’s going on between you two is different. I can tell. We can _all_ tell. I could have cut the tension with a knife earlier.”

Yaz pursed her lips against Clara’s finger, recollecting vividly how she’d interrupted them in the changing room. A towel had been their saving grace.

Clara looked up as someone joined them, her finger falling away from Yaz’s mouth as a lopsided grin tugged at her lips.

After a beat, Yaz turned to see Jules standing beside them, hands on her hips. For a brief second Yaz realised how things might have looked - Clara was sitting so very close and their heads had been practically touching - but then Jules held out a hand. 

“Dance with me.”

It wasn’t a question. Yaz scanned the room, bemused by the unexpected request. Jules never failed to surprise her. She was very aware that the people sitting behind them had suddenly stopped talking; the only noise she could hear was the low beat of the music and chatter at the bar. Apparently their group had been responsible for much of the noise and it was eerie to hear it stop so quickly, like someone had just turned down the master volume. 

As much as she wanted to dance with Jules, they were in a very public space and Yaz wasn't sure she was ready to reveal that something really had been going on between them. She wanted to protect the idea for as long as possible, keep it their secret. Idle gossip was one thing but once the others found out, any privacy they could hope for would disappear.

“I don't know if that's a good idea,” she hesitated. “There’s no dance floor, for a start.”

Jules raised an eyebrow in challenge. Yaz braced herself and felt Clara give her an encouraging nudge behind her.

“Yaz, you once told me to stop overthinking things. We can make our own dance floor. Come on,” Jules encouraged, smiling. “Come with me.” 

She gestured with her hand, beckoning Yaz upwards and, like a puppet on a string, Yaz got to her feet. She ignored the rousing cheers that went up behind her as she agreed to the dance, although she did spy Jules winking at someone before she turned and led Yaz to a quieter space across the other side of the room. 

So much for keeping things quiet, although as she glanced back she saw nothing but grins on the faces of her teammates. No shock, and no surprise. Maybe she really was over-thinking things.

Before Yaz could even open her mouth to comment, Jules swept in and held her close. So close that Yaz could feel the way they breathed together, pressed up in a way that left very little space between them.

The effect was instantaneous; Yaz raised her arms to rest on Jules’s shoulders, fingers meeting behind her neck. It was a sensible move because when Jules’s hands boldly came to rest on the exposed skin of her lower back, Yaz could have stumbled. 

“We fit,” Jules smiled, starting to move. Yaz was certain she could feel the stares of everyone in the bar but she did her best to ignore them; someone on her team would no doubt be filming them for posterity.

But after a few moments of just watching Jules and moving with her, Yaz could feel the world falling away. She grew more comfortable in the bubble they’d created, safe and happy even in the middle of a strange bar in a strange city. She felt anchored by Jules’s hands on her back, the feel of her shoulders under her forearms. Most of all, she felt centred in their little universe by the gaze they shared as they moved, heedless of their surroundings. 

After a long while, Jules finally spoke. 

“You've driven me insane, Yaz, in the best way. I’ve not been able to take my eyes off you all evening."

Yaz recalled that she’d had a similar problem from the very first moment she saw Jules on the pitch. The song changed to something even slower and Jules adjusted her pace. Yaz barely acknowledged they were even moving and let Jules take the lead. 

"But it’s not just tonight," Jules admitted. "I think you do it permanently. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Yaz was speechless, overwhelmed by the sentiment. She could barely believe her ears.

_Jules thought that about her?_

It almost didn’t seem real but the way Jules was looking at her prompted a visceral reaction that felt very real. Yaz forced herself to look up, rather than at the skin exposed by the open collar of Jules's crisp white shirt. She had an inkling of what lay beneath and could imagine it vividly. 

“The feeling’s mutual,” she murmured, now utterly entranced by Jules’s mouth. She desperately wanted to kiss it but she knew that they had an audience, even if she couldn’t see it. An obliging soul had dimmed the lights even further, although that probably had more to do with the lateness of the hour than the fact that two people had decided to make their own romantic dancefloor. Still, it was nice to pretend that the universe revolved around them, even if just for a moment. 

A careful hand swept up the expanse of her back and Yaz reflexively tightened her hold around Jules’s neck. The move only served to bring Jules closer and she leaned in to place her mouth by Yaz’s ear. 

“God, Yaz. You feel incredible. I can’t stop touching you.”

She demonstrated by trailing her hand back to the dip of Yaz’s lower back, prompting a shiver despite the warmth of the room. If anything, Yaz was overheating, overstimulated and building to boiling point. She’d played with fire by trying to get Jules’s attention and now that she had it, she was overwhelmed. 

“As good as you look in this shirt, I wish I could feel you,” Yaz admitted, playing with a loose strand of Jules’s hair. 

“Good things come to those who wait,” Jules murmured, dipping her head to bring her mouth to Yaz's neck in a brazen move.

Yaz gasped at the feel of soft lips against the tender skin under her ear and then they were gone. She mourned their loss almost instantly. 

“You’re doing that deliberately,” she huffed, feeling her self-control start to rapidly unravel. 

Jules’s answering chuckle shouldn't have been sexy, but it was. The simple contact, brief as it had been, had triggered something. Yaz had a feeling that Jules would be just as skilled with her mouth elsewhere and her mind didn’t have to work too hard to picture it. She inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of Jules’s skin and whatever perfume she was wearing. Yaz had no idea what it was, but the combination was lethal.

“What’s that?” Jules grinned, her teeth flashing in the gloom. Yaz almost didn’t hear her.

“Winding me up,” she muttered, feeling her palms start to sweat. She wanted to slide them under the material of Jules’s shirt, feel the solid warmth of her body with her bare hands.

Jules stepped closer, her hand spanning between Yaz’s shoulder blades as she pressed herself fully against Yaz. The contact made them both gasp and Yaz realised that Jules was just as aroused as she was. She was sure she could feel her nipples through her dress and even though they were still wearing clothes, Yaz was pretty certain that what they were doing was borderline inappropriate for a public place. 

Jules read her mind and uttered the words that Yaz had been waiting to hear all evening.

“Want to get out of here?”


	18. Bed (E)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nearly called this chapter ‘Pants Off Dance Off’ but you guys will probably tell from the rating change (and from the previous chapter) that things are about to get steamy, and I kinda like simple titles 😂 Alas, we near the end but I hope this makes up for it!
> 
> Now I'm just going to run and hide/have a lie down and a large glass of wine 😂

The taxi ride back to the hotel had been torture, even though the journey couldn’t have lasted more than 10 minutes; Yaz had sat as far apart from Jules as she could, not trusting either herself or Jules to keep her hands to herself. The task was made somewhat easier by the taxi driver, who kept looking in the rear-view mirror. Yaz didn’t want him to get a free show. She wanted Jules all to herself.

But Yaz’s self-control began to slip when they entered the safety of the lobby and had pretty much evaporated by the time they got into the lift. It was very early in the morning and apart from the receptionist, no other guests were in sight, so Yaz took her chance and tugged Jules to her the moment the doors slid shut, their mouths colliding moments later. 

Within seconds, Jules had her pinned against the mirror in a show of strength that Yaz didn’t even try to resist. Instead she arched into it, catching a glimpse of her own reflection in the doors. She looked positively indecent but rather than be appalled, Yaz found herself even more turned on than before. It didn’t hurt that she could see the muscles of Jules’s arms and shoulders move as she started to smear kisses across Yaz’s neck. When a firm thigh slid between her own, Yaz sought out Jules’s lips; she could feel her dress being hiked up even further from the movement but just as Jules was about to apply pressure with her leg where Yaz so desperately needed it, somebody cleared their throat. 

Yaz ripped her mouth away, looking over Jules’s shoulder to see a flabbergasted older man holding an ice bucket, standing by the lift doors. She giggled at his expression, completely overcome by adrenaline and endorphins and whatever cocktail of pheromones Jules had stirred up. The doors hadn’t even closed again before Jules had relinquished her hold on Yaz's wrists and gently cupped her face between her hands instead, requesting her attention.

“No more interruptions,” Jules breathed, and Yaz nodded in agreement. 

“No more interruptions.”

The doors slid shut and they became lost in one another again. It was only once the lift had stopped moving for several minutes that they realised they’d arrived. 

“Shit,” Yaz breathed. Her lips were already tingling from overuse and it was proving difficult to focus on anything other than Jules. “Where are we?”

Jules frowned at the number on the display, apparently having similar issues as she caught her breath.

“My level. Come on,” she grinned, reaching for Yaz’s hand and pulling her down the hallway. Yaz could have sworn she floated. It felt like they were doing something naughty, or dashing off on some adventure, which, in a way, Yaz supposed they were. 

“These damn things never work,” Jules sighed, struggling to unlock her door. Yaz waited as patiently as she could but the last thing they needed was another obstacle.

“Wish I could just magic my way inside. Aha!” Jules exclaimed, holding her key aloft in victory. Yaz exhaled in relief and instantly reached past Jules for the light switch, then pushed her inside before the other guests caught an eyeful. 

Jules was just as impatient as Yaz as she clumsily kicked off her shoes. Yaz followed suit, overjoyed to be out of heels, and then there was a pregnant pause as they both regarded one another, breathing hard.

“Should we-”

“Would you like some-”

Yaz laughed aloud at the sudden awkwardness. It was inevitable, given the circumstances and what was about to happen. 

“Go on,” Yaz encouraged, using the opportunity to adjust the dimmer and reducing the lighting to a much more bearable level. 

“I was about to say, would you like some help with your dress?” Jules asked. Her hands were now safely tucked away in her pockets, and Yaz thought she looked the perfect gentleman, if a little ruffled and shoeless. 

“Yes, please.” Yaz could feel her heart hammering against her ribcage as Jules took a step closer, reaching for the tie at the back of her neck. 

“As much as I wish you could stay in this all night, it’s really just going to get in my way.”

Yaz gulped as the tension at her neck loosened. She hadn’t worn a bra and the moment Jules let go, she’d be completely topless. She reached for Jules’s waist to steady herself as sudden nerves took hold. She tensed enough for Jules to take notice. 

_Of course she would_. Yaz was relieved that Jules was so perceptive. 

“Hey. It’s ok, Yaz,” Jules reassured her. “It’s just me.” She didn’t let go of the fabric, giving Yaz a moment to collect herself. 

“That’s the problem,” Yaz sighed. Being naked in front of Jules was anxiety-inducing to say the least. Yaz had never felt so self-conscious in her life.

“Well, aside from boosting my ego...we really don’t have to do anything," Jules insisted, and Yaz believed every word. But she shook her head. Nerves were nothing compared to the fear of what would happen if Jules didn’t touch her as soon as humanly possible. 

“If you _don't_ do anything I think I might never forgive you.”

“Wouldn't want that, would we?” Jules replied, smiling softly. “We can't start this off on the wrong foot.”

“This?” Yaz had never realised how much power a single word could have. And Jules...Jules could wield words like weapons.

“I was serious when I said I didn't want to fuck things up, Yaz.” 

“I'm pretty sure the only way you could fuck this up is by...y'know...not fucking me,” Yaz breathed, squeezing Jules’s waist in reassurance. And encouragement. 

Jules laughed and the sharper edge of tension dissipated. There was still something there, Yaz could feel it, but together they would bear it and, with any luck, come out on the other side even stronger for it. There was no denying their chemistry, and Yaz grounded herself in the feel of Jules breathing beneath her hands. 

“You ready?” Jules’s voice was quiet and they could have heard a pin drop in the silence that followed.

Yaz nodded, and then the fabric fell away. There was a moment when neither of them spoke and Yaz kept her eyes fixed on Jules’s face, taking in her reaction. But when she saw it, she realised she needn’t have been worried: Jules was looking at her in such awe that Yaz almost forgot she was exposed before her. 

“You are an absolute marvel, Yasmin Khan.” 

Jules’s tone was so earnest that Yaz felt a lump in her throat at the compliment. Nobody had ever made her feel quite like that before. Jules always knew just what to say.

“And you're a charmer, but I imagine you know that,” Yaz said instead, trying to keep things light. They’d have plenty of time to be serious later.

Jules ducked her head in acknowledgment but rather than reply, she took the opportunity to help Yaz out of her dress, leaving her in just her underwear. 

“Time to level the playing field?” Yaz suggested, suddenly lightheaded as she watched Jules reach for the buttons of her shirt. 

She unbuttoned them hurriedly, struggling with a couple and tugging at the sleeves impatiently in the hurry to get the shirt off. Her arms got stuck, though, and Yaz had to step in to help as she flapped.

“Stop moving,” Yaz giggled at Jules losing her cool so thoroughly. 

“Easy for you to say, Yaz. I’ve never wanted to be naked so much in my life.”

Something about the words or the sentiment behind them hit Yaz like a ton of bricks because she realised she very much agreed: she wanted nothing more than for Jules to be naked and she realised she could help speed things up.

“Here,” she offered, throwing the shirt to the floor. “Hold onto my shoulders and I’ll deal with your jeans.”

Yaz cursed the denim as it resisted her attempts to tug it down Jules’s legs, but one bonus was that she got to feel the muscles of said legs as she helped undress her.

The moment the jeans had pooled by her feet Jules impatiently kicked them to one side, and once Yaz had tugged off her socks she helped her up with a hand. 

“That’s better,” Jules sighed, already reaching for her bra. But the motion was clearly not an easy one and Yaz could tell her shoulder was still paining her.

“C’mere,” she encouraged, pushing Jules’s hands aside with only mild resistance. She hadn’t had much experience of undoing someone else’s bra but with a bit of beginner’s luck, the garment fell away moments later and Yaz found herself in close proximity with Jules’s breasts.

But not for long; once the offending item had been removed, Jules took a step forward, looping an arm around Yaz’s waist as she resumed kissing her. The movement meant that their breasts were touching and Yaz sighed at the pleasant sensation, feeling her nipples harden as their bare skin finally touched. Jules was warm against her and Yaz could feel herself starting to grow hot from their shared body heat.

It felt like she’d just come out of a long bath, tingling all over and suffused by warmth wherever Jules touched her. Yaz couldn’t get enough and she wrapped her own arms around the other woman. Kissing had never turned her on so much but then, Yaz thought, briefly, she’d probably been permanently aroused for a long time. She could hear Jules sighing happily as she stroked her back, and then they were moving backwards towards the bed. With a gentle shove, Yaz found herself on the edge of the mattress, watching as Jules tied her hair with a band from her wrist. 

It was an everyday movement but context was everything and Yaz felt another spike of arousal at the visual. Jules was tying her hair up because she didn’t want it getting in the way during sex. 

Yaz was about to have sex with another woman. 

Yaz was about to have sex with _Jules_.

She probably should have done the same thing but Yaz found herself rooted to the spot, staring at the way Jules’s body moved. She’d seen her move on the pitch and she had an undeniable grace but seeing the muscles move without the obstacle of clothing was a new thing entirely. She had a mole on the skin of her stomach that Yaz was desperate to touch, a bump on her collarbone from the break that she wanted to kiss. So much skin to explore and yet she knew that Jules wasn’t going to let that happen just yet. 

Her instincts were proved right when Jules lowered her arms and used them to guide Yaz up the bed, pushing her flat and then propping herself up above her. Yaz could see them tense as they bore her weight and smoothed her hands over them, feeling the contours of her biceps. She felt safe, protected by Jules's body. 

“Take your pants off for me,” Jules breathed, and Yaz knew the words shouldn’t - couldn’t - have made her any more aroused but something in the way that Jules told her what to do was hard to resist. She shuffled slightly, tugging the material down her thighs before Jules smoothed some of the hair away from her face. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Jules sighed, and Yaz believed it. She let the words fill her, settle, and etch themselves deep inside. But any emotion she felt was overtaken by baser ones as Jules shifted, resting on one forearm beside Yaz as her right arm moved down between them. Yaz slammed her eyes shut. It was too much to watch and the anticipation was killing her.

Yaz gasped as she felt fingertips touch her thigh again, just like they had earlier, except now there was nothing to stop them drifting higher. In fact there were no more obstacles; no other people to consider, no events keeping them apart. Just two people, alone, vulnerable to each other and captive to the connection they had forged despite the circumstances.

When fingers started to stroke gently between her legs, Yaz had to reach for the sheets either side of her and clench them tightly. Jules was touching her like she was made of glass.

“Fuck, you're soaked.” Jules grinned when Yaz opened her eyes to look into her face. 

“And you're cocky when it comes to this,” Yaz panted, looking down between them to reassure herself that Jules was actually touching her. She could see the outline of Jules’s arm and the subtle movement of the muscles in it as she moved her hand, and that was enough evidence for her to drop her head back to the pillow, eyes screwed shut as she focused on the sensation.

“For good reason,” Jules murmured, and despite her confidence - or perhaps because of it - Yaz found herself swooning. “Is that a complaint?”

Yaz didn’t even need to look at Jules to know she was teasing.

“Only if you don't hurry up and fuck me already,” she whined, losing her patience and her cool in the face of unprecedented arousal. 

Jules gasped in mock horror and Yaz clenched her teeth as Jules’s fingers drifted dangerously close to her clit. 

“I'm just really, really turned on,” Yaz admitted, her cheeks hot. “Have been since the locker room.”

“I can tell. My hand is between your legs, remember."

Yaz’s eyes flew open again. Jules was still grinning at her like she had all the time in the world and it was utterly maddening. 

“Jules, if you don’t-”

Whatever threat Yaz was about to make died on her lips when Jules slid a finger inside her.

“Oh,” Yaz exhaled, the sound far lower than any she’d ever heard herself make. “Oh.”

“Better?” Jules asked, except she looked far more serious. She wasn’t joking around and she moved to brace herself against the mattress while Yaz adjusted to the intrusion. 

Yaz nodded, and the mood shifted. 

“Yeah.”

"That's what I like to hear," Jules murmured, and then she started to kiss Yaz as she fingered her.

The combination of a tongue in her mouth and a finger inside her caused Yaz's eyes to slide shut as she concentrated on the intense sensations. She moaned into Jules's mouth as she felt another finger slip inside. She could feel herself stretching around them, an edge that made her clench around Jules as she started to pump her fingers a little harder. 

Jules moved her way down to Yaz's breasts, worshipping them with her tongue and Yaz realised she wasn't going to last long. One particularly deep thrust left her seeing stars and she brought her hand to her face, jamming the side of it into her mouth to stop herself from making any more embarrassing sounds. It was bad enough that she could hear how wet she was, but the uninhibited noises that were emerging from her mouth were something new entirely. 

“That’s it, Yaz. Don’t be shy,” Jules encouraged, pulling her mouth away. “Let me hear you.”

Yaz let her hand fall away as the palm of Jules’s hand pressed firmly against her clit, a deliberate move that was driving her to the edge more rapidly than she’d thought possible. 

“You feel so fucking good, you know that?”

Just hearing Jules’s words was enough to tip her over and she froze as an orgasm washed through her seconds later. 

“Oh god,” she panted, “stop.”

Jules immediately stopped.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, clearly concerned.

Yaz shook her head, trying to catch her breath.

“I just need a sec,” she explained, opening her eyes to dazedly focus on Jules’s face. Yaz's expression apparently gave the game away because concern shifted to genuine delight. 

“Did you come?” Jules slowly removed her fingers when Yaz nodded.

“Might've." 

Yaz was mortified it had happened so quickly and in truth, she had come so hard and fast that it had felt like she’d simultaneously left her body. But she wasn’t going to tell Jules that when she looked so pleased with herself. 

Jules discreetly wiped her hand on the sheets but Yaz caught the motion and raised her hands to her face when she felt how damp she’d made the duvet beneath them.

“Nothing to be embarrassed about, Yaz."

Judging by how close Jules sounded she’d propped herself back up alongside her. 

“I take it as a compliment. But I’m by no means finished with you.”

When Yaz finally pulled her hands away, Jules was smiling at her like the cat that got the cream. 

“I feel like you've just set the bar ridiculously high,” Yaz admitted with a sigh, paranoid beyond measure that she’d not be able to do quite so well. 

Jules laughed lightly at the compliment and her breast brushed against Yaz’s arm as she removed her underwear, triggering a wave of goosebumps that made Yaz shiver. It was nice, laughing in bed with someone. Sex really was the most ridiculous thing and Yaz knew it should be fun, but she was still terrified about what was to happen next. She could barely bring herself to look down and see just how naked Jules was because she was almost certain she'd lose several executive functions. She'd been dreaming of this moment for so long and now that it was here, the pressure was huge. It didn't help that Jules was the most attractive person Yaz had ever encountered and now they were in bed together. Naked. 

“Don’t worry,” Jules sensed her nerves. “I don’t think it’ll take much. Feel.”

She reached for Yaz’s hand and boldly pulled it between her legs, and Yaz gasped at the slick heat she found there. It coated her fingertips and she instinctively traced them through it, watching Jules respond.

“See?” Jules moaned breathily. "That's what you do to me."

Her eyes fluttered shut as she guided Yaz’s hand, but Yaz was captivated by her expression. Jules's confidence gave her confidence.

“Those sounds you made were just incredible,” Jules sighed, falling back to the mattress and finally letting go of Yaz’s wrist as she started to move with determination, spurred on by the noises Jules was making. Sleeping with someone new was always strange but it helped ease Yaz's nerves to see - and feel - that Jules was just as affected by the situation as she was. 

“I need you, Yaz. Only you." Jules's eyes opened briefly, hooded with desire, and they gave Yaz the boost she needed to continue alone. It wasn’t so different from what she did to herself, Yaz mused, except she couldn't feel it. But whatever she was doing was apparently making Jules feel good, judging by the expressions she was making. 

Boldly, she started to circle Jules’s clit with her fingertips, learning what she liked from the sounds she made. Every expression was catalogued and saved for future reference, but when Jules started to breathe more heavily and her mouth fell open, Yaz knew she was close. It didn’t hurt that Jules was so talkative. It was the most Yaz had ever heard her talk, and she was amazed she could still say so much when she was clearly struggling to breathe.

“That’s it, that’s it,” Jules encouraged, chest arching upwards. Yaz couldn’t resist the offering presented to her and dipped her head, taking a nipple into her mouth and flicking it with her tongue as she circled the nerves with her fingers, pressing more firmly as she felt Jules’s hips rock into her hand faster and faster. 

"Don't stop doing that," Jules panted desperately, hands shooting out to grab whatever was in reach. Her right hand found Yaz's knee and she squeezed it as she moaned louder and louder, spurring Yaz on. It was thrilling to be the one responsible for Jules losing control.

Jules was loud when she came and the sound lingered in Yaz’s ears as she slowed her hand, finally stopping when Jules suddenly slumped back to the mattress like a puppet whose string had been cut. 

She watched as Jules’s ribs heaved, her stomach muscles quivering with aftershocks. 

Jules groaned as she laid her forearm over her eyes, breathing hard. 

“Oh my god,” she murmured. “Yaz.”

“Did you just call me god?” Yaz laughed in relief, flopping back onto the mattress. Her nerves had taken a flying leap out of the window; she was beaming. She’d had no idea she could have that much power over someone, let alone someone like Jules.

Jules huffed out a laugh. 

“Don’t you start getting an ego,” she said. “Only room for one of those.”

“Just because yours is so astronomical,” Yaz sighed, waiting for Jules to regain her senses more fully. 

“You know what they say,” Jules replied, arm finally falling away so that she could look at Yaz. She looked more beautiful than Yaz had ever seen her. “Big ego, big….”

“Is this your way of saying you’re a big dick?”

“Yaz!” Jules spluttered, then burst into laughter. “Not that I have it with me, but…”

That truly left Yaz lost for words and Jules let out a triumphant “Ha!” at her expression. 

“Shut up,” Yaz muttered, cheeks flaming. She refused to be appeased, even when Jules flung an arm around her waist and tugged her close. The intimacy of the gesture and the way they so easily moulded to each other, skin on skin, made warmth blossom in Yaz's chest. She hummed happily, tracing the skin over Jules's hip. Feeling the shape of her.

“It’s ok. We can warm up to that,” Jules murmured, kissing the top of her head and sliding a leg between Yaz’s. The motion served to remind Yaz that she was still stupidly turned on and she gasped as a thigh boldly pressed up against her. 

“That’s right,” Jules murmured as if surprised. Yaz knew better. The move had been deliberate. “I wasn’t quite finished with you, was I?”

Jules pulled away, reaching for a pillow and bodily lifting Yaz by the legs to slide it underneath her lower back. Yaz’s eyes widened at the show of strength but Jules didn’t seem to notice, already plotting a plan of attack as she gazed at the way Yaz’s body was laid out before her. 

“What are you doing?” Yaz asked after several moments of inactivity. Jules looked like she was trying to solve a complex equation rather than fuck her brains out. 

“Just figuring out what I want to do,” Jules frowned. “We’re not in any hurry, remember? I want to take my time. Do this properly.”

“This isn’t a football game,” Yaz huffed. “There’s no strategy required. Besides, you’ve already done me properly." Yaz punctuated her point with a slow roll of her hips. Even though she’d taken the edge off, Yaz was still desperate for Jules to get a shift on. Thankfully, Jules seemed to be on board. 

“As always, Yaz, you’re right. And you’ve reminded me just what I want to do,” Jules said, shuffling down the bed and easing Yaz’s legs apart. 

“What’s that?” 

“I want to learn how you taste.”

Yaz realised she was in for trouble when she felt soft breaths against her tender skin, resisting the urge to hide herself at such close scrutiny. Instead, she focused on the frown line that had emerged on Jules’s forehead and tried not to tremble when confident hands arrived at her inner thighs, pushing them apart slightly and holding them there as Jules moved in for the kill, her eyes flicking up to Yaz in a silent question. 

Yaz wished she could take a picture of the way Jules looked between her legs at that moment. She nodded - there was no way she’d say no to this, unless she was in some parallel universe - and then a warm mouth engulfed her completely. Her back arched of its own accord and she moaned so loudly that she was sure she’d wake the hotel guests next door if Jules already hadn’t. 

A warm tongue licked the length of her and Yaz distantly felt her hips buck into the motion, encouraging a repeat. Jules obliged, eyes fixed on Yaz as she traced her thoroughly with the tip of her tongue, and then the flat of it, making Yaz shudder as she swiped boldly across her clit. And then she moved lower. Yaz wondered where she was going and then a tongue was probing inside her and she had her answer. 

Hands flexed on her thighs as Jules moved her tongue in a rhythm that was close enough to Yaz's pulse to make her hold her breath. It was so accurate that it was as if Jules had taken her pulse with her tongue. Perhaps she had, Yaz thought, marvelling at the sensation even as sweat broke out on her forehead. Her head was pounding as she held her breath and it was starting to make her feel light-headed.

She whimpered when Jules pulled away after a moment, her chin slick with arousal. The visual only made Yaz wetter and she practically whimpered at it.

"Breathe, Yaz," Jules instructed, encouraging her to exhale and inhale a few times before she resumed.

Normal breathing somewhat restored, Yaz simply watched as Jules fucked her with her tongue. Her eyes had closed in concentration; she seemed to be enjoying herself and Yaz couldn't fault her enthusiasm. But even though her tongue was inside her, Yaz wanted to feel another connection to Jules. She lowered her hand to rest on her head, prompting Jules to look up at her briefly, checking in. Yaz smiled shakily and her head fell back to the pillow.

"Fucking hell," Yaz groaned as the tongue was replaced easily by two fingers. Jules gave her a moment to settle before she took her clit into her mouth and started to suck gently, flicking over it with her tongue in a consistently steady pattern that made Yaz toss her head on the pillow with abandon. She could hear her hair move against the fabric and then the unmistakeable sound of Jules starting to fuck her, slow and steady, with her fingers. 

For several moments, all Yaz could hear was their breathing and slick noises from between her legs as Jules thrusted with flawless precision at a spot inside that made Yaz moan loudly and almost continuously.

Adding in the contended hums and fervent noises that Jules was making with her mouth just wound Yaz up even higher. The sounds they were making together were obscene but the sight of Jules between her legs, using her mouth so intimately and skilfully, was the most erotic thing Yaz had ever seen and she tightened around the fingers inside her, triggered by several deadly accurate swipes of a tongue against her clit.

"Oh god," Yaz groaned, her heart pounding as she braced herself. Her hand tightened in Jules's hair. "You'll make me come."

Yaz was instantly torn because Jules was driving her up so high that she wished the moment could last forever. But all good things had to come to an end. She could have sworn she saw Jules smile, despite the fact her mouth was otherwise occupied. That look, and the hum Jules made when she sucked Yaz's clit into her mouth made Yaz grind herself against her face, inhibitions long gone as her thighs clamped around Jules’s head to keep her in place. It felt utterly lewd but Yaz did not care, and Jules seemed to be enjoying herself, redoubling her efforts at the wordless encouragement.

Yaz let out a wordless cry as the white-hot wave finally crested and broke over her, leaving her utterly weak and helpless, able only to gasp for breath on the sheets. 

She had no idea how long she lay there, only that the bed shifted at some point and then there was the sound of running water from the en suite. A cool, damp flannel was being passed over her thighs and Yaz barely lifted her head to see Jules cleaning her up. 

"Oh," she murmured, voice shaky. Just when Yaz thought she knew herself and her own limits, Jules completely tipped the world on its axis. 

After a couple of gentle swipes with the cloth, Jules moved away and then she was encouraging Yaz under the duvet. Yaz shivered when she realised how cold she was but she felt like she'd been turned inside out, her body in shock. 

"Come here," Jules murmured, wrapping the duvet around them both and then Yaz in her arms. It was warm and so very comfortable and even though it was new, Yaz immediately felt at home

"Just need a min," Yaz mumbled. She was absolutely exhausted and her eyelids felt like they were made of lead. They drooped despite her best intentions. 

"And then some," Jules chuckled against the top of her head. "Good to know I've still got it."

If Yaz had had the energy to respond she would have done, but instead she fell asleep to the sound of Jules's heart in her ear. 

* * *

A siren woke Yaz hours later and for a moment, she thought she was at home. For a split second, she even thought she was running late for work, and then she realised the siren was nothing like the ones she was used to hearing.

She grinned when she realised where she was and how she'd got there. Except when she turned onto her side, it was to an empty bed. 

Frowning, Yaz reached for the clock on the bedside table, trying to gauge the time. It was still dark out and the red digits informed her it was still before 5am. The sheets beside her were still faintly warm and Jules couldn't have gone far, Yaz knew. But she also knew something was wrong. The last she remembered, they'd fallen asleep together. 

_Why would she have left?_

"Jules?" Yaz called. A slight gust from the sliding doors gave her a clue. 

Yaz gingerly eased herself from the bed, feeling pleasantly achy. She was still entirely naked and she briefly considered putting on her clothes, then opted to tug a spare sheet from the bed and wrap it around herself. It would serve much the same purpose as the skimpy dress on the floor.

The noise of the door sliding open startled Jules, who was leaning out on the balcony to look out at the city.

“Sorry, Yaz. Did I wake you?”

She seemed concerned but subdued and Yaz ignored the freezing temperature, moving in to hug her from behind. She moved on instinct and when she felt Jules lean back into her, she knew her instincts with Jules could be trusted.

“No, don’t worry. What are you doing out here? Other than trying to turn into an icicle.”

Yaz felt Jules laugh in her arms and she propped her chin on the shoulder in front of her, breathing in the morning air. The streetlights were still on and every now and again, a car passed them by on the street below, but otherwise the city was still sleeping. 

“Berlin looks magical at night, doesn’t it? A lot of cities do when they’re this quiet.” 

Jules wasn’t answering her question, but Yaz didn’t push.

“That may be, but I'm sure it could look magical from behind the glass. It’s freezing. Come back to bed.”

Yaz could sense Jules forming a retaliation, and then she deflated.

“Alright.”

Yaz was relieved that she was finally seeing sense - she’d lost feeling in her feet - and she led the way back to bed, sliding back between the covers and holding them up in invitation. 

Jules shrugged off her hoodie and jeans and slid in, and Yaz pulled her close, biting back a shriek at the feel of how cold her bare skin was pressed up against her own. 

“Oh my god, you’re freezing,” she shivered, alarmed at how cold and quiet Jules was. “I’m warming you up.”

Jules sighed happily against Yaz’s neck and Yaz tried not to flinch at the ice-cold tip of her nose as it brushed against her pulse. 

“Think you can get some more sleep?” Yaz asked, drawing soothing circles on her shoulder. She hoped they’d relax Jules enough to open up a little, and she was right.

Jules nodded. 

“Yeah, I think so. Just a bad dream.”

Yaz moved her hand up to stroke through her hair, relieved that Jules had admitted what was wrong. She could hazard a guess as to what the dream had been about.

“I'm sorry,” she murmured, genuinely apologetic. She wished she could do something more to help, but Jules stopped that train of thought almost instantly. 

“No need to say sorry, Yaz. I'm glad you're here.”

Yaz laughed as a memory flashed through her mind. 

“Oh, god. Remember that text I sent you? “Wish you were here”?”

“Yeah,” Jules laughed, and the sound warmed Yaz’s heart. “I wanted to say the exact same thing. But you were asleep, and I didn't want to wake you.”

Yaz sighed. There had been so many moments to lead them to this point. Now, she had no idea what was to come. They’d have to figure it out together.

“I'm just glad you're here now,” Yaz replied.

She felt Jules settle against her as she continued stroking her hair, and in a way it was more intimate than anything they’d done to one another earlier that evening. 

“I'm scared, Yaz.”

Jules was quiet but Yaz heard the words clearly and was surprised by the unexpected admission. 

“You don't strike me as someone who scares easily.”

Jules shook her head.

“I'm not. This just feels different to anything else. Everything else.”

“Yeah. I think I know what you mean,” Yaz agreed. She had no idea how she could even describe what had just happened between them, and then she thought of her teammates, several of whom had been witness to them leaving the bar together. 

“This will make the rounds, by the way. I think it already has. Even before I realised what was happening.”

“You know, it took Donna of all people to point out the obvious to me.”

Yaz remembered eavesdropping on Jules and Donna in the changing room but opted to keep quiet. She’d had a feeling at the time that they might have been talking about her, but hadn’t dared hope it was true. Now, she was counting her lucky stars. 

“We're in this together, Jules. I’m with you. Whatever happens.”


	19. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who not only took the time to read this but left such lovely comments and hit that kudos button! You know me, I'm a big fan of an epilogue. Sorry it’s so short but I always find it so hard to leave characters (especially these ones) and I’m not necessarily sure this is the last time we’ll see them...so without further ado, the end.

The days were growing longer. Summer was on the way; the mornings were getting lighter, which made early shifts a lot more bearable. And the evenings felt like they had more time in them, somehow, as if the light stretched the available hours and made them last. Which was impossible, she knew, but time was weird like that. Now, when they finished practice, it was still light. Socials had moved out of the dingy old man pubs and into the beer gardens, which was an improvement but also possibly a bit optimistic given that Sheffield’s version of spring temperatures could be hit and miss. 

Jules tightened her laces, her mind wandering. She was surrounded by the gentle hubbub and chaos of her teammates preparing for the game but she didn’t hear a word they were saying. Instead, she thought of what she’d talked about with Yaz over breakfast that morning. In her kit bag was a spare key that Yaz had given her and it was already the single most precious item Jules owned. Her thoughts inevitably drifted to Yaz, who was already warming up on the pitch. It was going to be hard to separate their own lives from the game they were about to play, Jules knew; their interaction would be limited to what could safely be deemed legal in football. 

Jules grinned to herself as she imagined how things would go down if she kissed Yaz in the middle of a game. It was seriously tempting. Graham’s face would be priceless, for a start.

She was still so absorbed in her thoughts that when they did actually encounter one another on the pitch, Jules did something she never had before: she completely lost focus, too distracted by the presence of her girlfriend when they were within touching distance. Yaz snagged the ball from her easily, surprising herself, and cleared it before Jules even realised what happened.

“Got past your defences for once?” Yaz asked her as she trotted back to her position. 

“Seems only fair,” Jules grinned, reluctantly loping back up the pitch and towards the ball. 

The rest of the game was uneventful - apart from a goal for the other team - and Jules barely had any time with the ball, but for once she didn’t care. Her mind was well and truly elsewhere and when the whistle blew, and Yaz’s team won, Jules found herself beaming stupidly. Jules loved to see Yaz looking so happy. 

Scratch that.

She loved Yaz.

As team captain it wasn’t particularly good practice to be elated at the opposition’s win, but the low morale of her own team didn’t even begin to make a dent in her own sunny disposition. 

“Jules, what’s up with you? Why are you so bloody happy? You lost!” 

Donna was clearly fuming but Jules’s mind was elsewhere. 

After all, she only had eyes for Yasmin Khan, who was currently celebrating at the other end of the pitch. 

"No," Jules grinned. "I really didn't."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those of you who are requesting a Jules POV, I hope this tides you over while I try and work up the nerve to write that 😅  
> 


	20. Jules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the author returns to a fic she thought was finished, to provide Jules's perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys owe me so much wine. 
> 
> Little disclaimer for this chapter: I (obviously) do not work in A&E. I did a bit of reading but this is not meant to be a painstakingly accurate reflection of what it’s like to work there. Thankfully I’ve only ever had to visit once so my experience is also limited! Please note there is brief mention of assault in this chapter. This part of the fic is gonna overlap a bit with Yaz and then continue!
> 
> Also big thanks to Amy, Gee, and Rachel for being such good sounding boards! I sat on this for ages cos I was nervous about posting it so you have them to thank for giving me the boost needed 😂

_6 months earlier_

The distant protest of machinery barely registered. All she could focus on was the body underneath her own, unmoving even as she pressed hard enough to break ribs, fingers intertwined and brow sweating with exertion.

_Come on._

Adrenaline, a dash of outrage, and a hint of panic were fuelling her now. As the seconds ticked by, she could feel her grasp of the situation slipping through her fingers. It had been tenuous from the first minute but still, she hated losing. 

Jules had lost track of time but that was a given; she knew she’d be told when the next two minutes were up, and time itself seemed to warp and pass differently in these life and death situations, so much so that she let it pass unheeded, her attention fixed entirely on the task at hand. In a blink of an eye, a life could be brought into existence or extinguished and much of that power rested in her hands. For a lot of people, that responsibility would be daunting, but for Jules it was one of the most addictive feelings in the world. 

For now, all she could do was her very best to restart a heart that had slowed so much it had simply stopped. It wasn’t a natural way to die, particularly in someone so young, and Jules risked a glance at the face of the person she was working on. He was only 20 and Jules knew she was getting old because he looked no older than 16. She hated seeing cases like this, young people falling victim to an addiction that deprived them of life, just so they could experience artificial, temporary euphoria. As tempting as that was, life was painful and the return to it was even moreso. She'd learned that the hard way.

“Jules? You can stop.”

The voice fell on deaf ears. Jules had tunnel vision. Her state of being was reduced to the pressure she was applying with her arms, the mental count in her head, the feel of sweat on her brow. Her arms were burning but the adrenaline had deprived her of her senses and she chased the edge of discomfort that had been a companion for the past ten minutes, knowing that it was preferable to feel something than nothing at all. She kept pushing down, well into the rhythm of compressions, before a cautious hand on her arm finally broke through and interrupted her momentum. 

“Jules?”

Jules faltered, realising that she was the only person in the vicinity who was still moving. The others - a collection of other doctors and several nurses - had stopped and were already surveying the mess they’d made. Jules moved her arms away, her elbows already stiff and aching from being locked. She could hear herself gasping for breath; although she was fit, CPR was still hard work, and she could feel her own heart racing even as the one underneath her gloved hands had stopped dead.

“Shit,” she swore, breathless. She looked up at the clock on the wall and nodded, and the consultant moved away. The awful droning noise of the machines finally stopped and she instantly sensed the mood shift as her colleagues started to busy themselves for the next case. Resus was oddly quiet that day, no that she was complaining; it gave her the luxury of time to take a good long look at the young man who’d just died on her watch. 

Overdoses were always an ugly way to die, even if they were nowhere near as gruesome as some of the lethal injuries they sometimes encountered. They were deceptive. The boy looked like he had simply fallen asleep, which he essentially had. There were certainly more violent deaths, Jules mused, subtly shaking out the ache in her arms as she watched one of the junior doctors leave resus to pass on the news to the patient’s girlfriend. Jules caught a glimpse of the young woman as the doors opened and tried to ignore the guilt eating at the edges. 

“You alright, love?” 

One of the nurses seemed to sense where her thoughts were heading. 

“Yeah. Thanks, Grace,” Jules smiled, genuinely touched that someone had just asked how she was. It was far too easy to get swept up and into the next case on days like this. Grace was one of the good ones: always considerate, always caring. 

“Why don’t you grab a coffee before the next one comes in?” Grace suggested, but Jules shook her head. Even though the department was quieter than usual, Jules knew there were more than thirty people waiting to be seen in the waiting room, with a wide range of complaints that she knew would keep her on her toes and distract her from what had just happened. 

It was the part of the job she loved most: the challenge of the unexpected, the different people she got to see every single day. She also knew that the death she’d just called would linger in the back of her mind for a while. It only ever got a little easier, and while it made sense to distance herself from the guilt and sadness that accompanied deaths in her care, she made a point to never forget them. 

“No rest for the wicked,” she drawled, trying to inject some humour into her tone. Deaths happened all the time, so why did this one hit harder?

Jules sighed, rolling her shoulders to try and remove the excess tension in them. She’d need to stretch them later or she'd be paying for it tomorrow.

“Are there any custard creams left?” she asked hopefully. "That would sort me out." 

Grace laughed, an honest and joyful sound that Jules found addictive. She liked to make Grace laugh. 

“After you polished off the last packet, we realised we’d need to buy in bulk. But you may need to ask nicely, Sandra’s having a right day of it and she stress eats.”

Their lead triage nurse was often highly stressed but Jules knew she could charm her. She was good at talking to people, especially if her favourite biscuits lay in wait.

“I’ll see if I can convince her,” Jules winked, and Grace laughed again, another genuine laugh that finally put a smile on Jules’s face. She just had to remember that although the job could be life and death sometimes, there were silver linings. 

As it turned out, Jules managed to swap her second opinion on an ECG reading for three custard creams, which she thought was a fair trade. 

The rest of her shift peaked and troughed relentlessly. An old woman who had fallen had been brought in by paramedics was so confused that Jules had to admit her, and when Gladys had looked so lost and alone she simply sat with her and held her hand while they waited for the porter. Jules knew that one of the first things she’d do on her next shift was find out how she was getting on. 

Norman, her next patient, complained continuously about the wait to be seen for what was clearly a sprained ankle. Jules just about managed to bite her tongue - he wasn’t to know that one of her patients had just died - but she made a point of suggesting he visit a walk-in clinic the next time he had an injury that wasn’t truly life-threatening. She eventually tuned out his protests that he could barely walk, never mind visit a walk-in centre, as he dramatically limped away and instead she moved onto the next patient, a drunk driver who’d wrapped his car around a lamppost. 

But her last patient was Jules's favourite of the day. A young girl named Emily with muddy, ripped dungarees and a very obviously broken arm. She reminded Jules of herself at that age, a tomboy who had paid more than one visit to A&E, to the point where it didn’t even scare her. 

“Hey, honey,” she grinned as she rolled a stool over to the bed. She loved dealing with kids. “What have you been up to, then? Why are you in here today?” she asked, carefully unwrapping the towel that was serving as a makeshift sling.

“Fell out of a tree,” the girl replied casually, her feet swinging off the edge of the bed like it was no big deal. 

“Was it a big tree?” Jules asked with interest, keen to keep the girl talking while she started to feel along her arm. If she was anything like Jules had been as a kid, she’d want to show off about her adventures.

“A very big tree,” Emily’s mother supplied, and Jules could see that she was far more stressed out about the whole thing than her daughter was. Jules knew she’d caused her own parents similar anguish whenever she injured herself at that age. 

“Maybe no more tree-climbing for a bit, eh?” Jules suggested, hoping to exert some parental charm. It always made things a bit easier if the parents weren’t freaking out in the corner.

“You know, I did the same thing when I was younger. Trying to show off to the boys.”

The girl pulled a face. 

“Boys? Yuck.” 

Jules didn’t even try to stifle her grin. She could feel Emily’s mother watching her warily but her attention was fully focused on her patient for the time being. 

“I know that feeling.”

As Jules leaned across for a splint, the girl caught sight of the material around her neck.

“You’re wearing a rainbow!” 

Emily pointed enthusiastically at the rainbow lanyard dangling from Jules’s neck. It was the one item of her uniform that Jules wore with true pride, almost as much as the stethoscope in her pocket.

“You like rainbows, hey? When you get back from X-ray, I might just have a little something for you.”

While her patient was taken to X-ray, it didn’t take long for Jules to find her stash of rainbow stickers in her locker, but she was diverted by an urgent case once again on her way back. By the time she was reunited with Emily, her arm was already freshly plastered. But the detour was worth it when the girl beamed at her as Jules ceremoniously affixed a rainbow sticker to her t-shirt. 

“Now, be careful. Don’t go climbing too high because I don’t want to see you in here for a while, ok?” Jules said, her expression serious. She could see the girl’s weary mother nod with relief but just as they were about to leave, Jules couldn’t resist a parting comment out of earshot. 

“But never be scared of adventure.” The conspiratorial grin they shared was the highlight of Jules’s day. The only thing that could make life even better in that moment was a custard cream, which meant yet another visit to the triage nurses’ desk. It was deserted, which was odd, but Jules sensed an opportunity and grabbed it.

Her fingers had just clasped around the penultimate biscuit in the packet when a laugh prompted her to turn and almost drop it. 

“It's a good thing you're cute.”

Jules could feel her cheeks burning when she realised who’d caught her in the act. Kerry was one of the newer nurses and apparently she had a bit of a crush on her, which was flattering to say the least. But Jules knew it wouldn’t be a wise idea to mix work and pleasure, as tempting as it was; her break-up with Bill was still fresh enough that she knew how easy it would be to royally screw things up at work. She needed to be single for a little while. Or, at least, not complicate things with someone new.

“You’re good with kids,” Kerry continued, sidling up and nabbing the last biscuit, nimbly disposing of the wrapper. It felt like they’d been made partners in crime and Jules tried to ignore how closely they were standing together, but she was riding a wave of adrenaline that made her question her own judgment. Maybe a quick fling wouldn’t be the end of the world, she thought. It wouldn’t be the first time it’d happened in this kind of environment. She’d walked in on two of her colleagues making out in a supply closet only last week. A bit of human comfort was sometimes all anyone needed, especially after a rough day.

“Am I?” she asked instead, casually brushing the crumbs from her fingers. Flirting with beautiful women came as naturally as breathing and Jules was just considering what to say next when the phone behind them rang.

Seconds later, chaos broke out in resus, sending Jules running. 

“You still owe me biscuits!” Kerry called after her.

* * *

After a trying day, Jules was more than ready to cut loose. Luckily, she had football practice that evening and as she checked her watch, she realised she’d get there early enough to warm up before the others even arrived. 

It was just what she needed: a distraction from the events of the day. As she rummaged in her locker, someone opened the door to the staff room with a dramatic sigh. 

“What a day,” Grace groaned good-naturedly, helping herself to a slice of cake that someone had brought in earlier that morning. Jules was amazed there was any left; it was a sign of just how busy they’d been that hardly any of the staff on shift had taken a full break.

“When are you back in?” Jules asked, reaching for her kit bag in her locker. She hoped they’d have another shift together soon.

“Tomorrow. You?”

“Wednesday,” Jules replied, carefully closing the door and thumbing the combination. She tried not to be disappointed at the fact she wouldn’t see Grace for at least a couple of days.

“I was going to ask if you had some plans but I should know better,” Grace commented, polishing off the cake with a happy sigh as she opened her own locker. “And I was just about to ask if you fancied joining a few of us for a drink.”

As much as she loved football, Jules was genuinely sad to miss out on another work social event. She made a mental note to make more of an effort with her colleagues given how new she still was at the hospital, but she also knew that devoting less time to football wasn’t something she’d readily agree to. That, and Jules knew that the only thing that would get her out of her own head right at that moment would be to vent some stress on the pitch. 

_Baby steps_.

“How about next time? And I promise I’ll deliver your husband back to you in one piece,” Jules grinned. 

“Judging by the drills he was talking about this morning, I’d say you should be more worried about yourself,” Grace warned, laughing at Jules’s groan. 

“Where is he finding all of these things?”

“You can thank Ryan for introducing him to YouTube,” Grace replied, not unsympathetically. “Take some cake on the way out, you’ll need it. Honestly, I don’t know where you get the energy. You’re putting the rest of us to shame!”

Jules could tell there was no real venom in Grace’s tone; instead, she could definitely detect some maternal concern. 

“Fuelled by custard creams,” she replied. “But don’t worry, I’ll be sleeping like a log by 9 pm.”

Grace looked at her warily and Jules wondered if she’d stretched the truth a bit too far. With any luck, practice would tire her out enough to help her sleep well but that was never guaranteed. So, to make amends, and under Grace’s watchful eye, Jules did as she was told and picked up a slice of cake on the way out of the door. She never normally liked to eat before practice but a bit of sugar wouldn’t hurt after such a draining shift. 

* * *

“Heard you got something planned for us,” Jules said, taking a breather as Graham walked across the pitch. She’d been there for half an hour already and her legs were ready and raring to go. The hazy evening sun was glorious but Jules knew it wouldn’t be around for much longer - not today, and not after a few more weeks. But given how warm it was, she was looking forward to the reprieve that the autumn weather would bring. She was already sweating.

“Who told you that?” Graham replied, offended at the idea. 

Jules simply put her hands on her hips and waited for him to cotton on. 

“Grace," he sighed.

“Yep. She always lets me know if we’re in for trouble. quite handy, really, having people on the inside.”

“I should stop telling her so much. I think you spend more time with my wife than I do,” Graham grumbled as he started to place cones at the side of the pitch. “Don’t tell the others, though. I want it to be a surprise.”

“You have my word,” Jules replied wryly, hearing Donna before she even saw her. Donna was, without a doubt, her favourite member of the team but also the one who gave her the most shit. 

“Those better not be what I think they are,” Donna complained, and Jules turned to raise an unimpressed eyebrow. 

“Noble, don’t give me that.”

“You’re just smug because you’ve already warmed up. These’ll be a doddle for you.”

“Less talking, more running,” Jules grinned, chivvying a reluctant Donna towards the edge of the field for a warm-up lap. “I’ll get the others to follow.”

In dribs and drabs the rest of her team arrived and Jules made a point of greeting all of them. It was partly why she warmed up in advance, so that she could watch their progress and check in with her players. She took her role as captain very seriously, and although it did lead to some tension with Graham - who took his role as coach equally seriously - more often than not, he welcomed her input. 

When he explained the drills they were to practice that evening, for example, he was grateful for her encouragement and support. They were just discussing the plan for the rest of the training session when a voice cut across their conversation. A very familiar voice that made Jules turn without thinking.

“Yaz!”

Bill was yelling and Jules frowned as she tried to see just who she was yelling at. 

Practices had started a couple of weeks ago and Jules just got used to the fact she’d see Bill so regularly. It still pained her a little to see her, considering how things had ended. 

Thankfully Bill didn't seem to see her. But the person Bill was calling for - Yaz; Jules wondered if that was short for something - had apparently been staring right at her. After a beat, the other woman looked away to greet Bill and give her a hug. 

Jules did a double take. She immediately recognised the woman but it took her a moment to place her. When she saw Bill start to walk alongside her, it clicked because she'd seen them walk like that before, in uniform.

They worked together. Jules had seen them both in A&E a few weeks previously, accompanying an assault victim. She'd hung back at the time, letting one of her colleagues deal with things because Bill had not handled their break up all that well and it wouldn’t be remotely professional for her to get involved. 

She remembered that Bill’s partner - Yaz - had stayed with the young woman while Bill dealt with some paperwork. She’d spoken quietly and calmly to her, even though it was clear their shift had already ended. It wasn’t that Bill didn't care - she was just as reluctant to leave - but Yaz had a way with the woman that stuck with Jules. 

Eventually, the patient was admitted and they’d left. Jules had been surprised to see Yaz the following day, inquiring about the young woman from the previous evening. Police officers didn’t normally come back after the fact and Bill wasn’t with her, so she was apparently off duty. Jules had been struck by how clearly she cared. She hadn’t even known her name but Yaz’s attitude and demeanour had lingered for a long time afterwards. 

And now she was playing on Bill’s team, by the looks of things. Although the development was possibly a welcome one - Jules looked forward to seeing what Yaz was all about, and their paths were unlikely to cross otherwise, unless by sheer chance - she was struck by the fact that they would be playing opposite one another. And if she was partnered with Bill at work, then she had a horrible feeling that Yaz wouldn’t much like her. Even if Bill hadn’t spoken about her, the rest of her team might well fill in the gaps. Jules grimaced as she realised she might never be able to make a good first impression on someone she was already intrigued by. 

A sudden shout was all the warning she had before a ball smacked her solidly in the side of the head.

“Oi, Jules! You ready?”

Jules pursed her lips as she turned to see Donna grinning at her cheekily. 

“You’ll pay for that, Noble,” she muttered, finally jogging over to the others. Embarrassed, she realised they’d been watching her zone out.

Donna wasn’t nearly intimidated enough by the threat, much to Jules’s chagrin.

“Ha. I’d like to see you try!”


	21. Arrangement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When you realise how a certain character comes into this, and what her job is, you may realise why I made her a surgeon - I used to love ER back in the day...  
> For the time being I've locked ongoing fics to unregistered user comments, I'm really sorry for those of you who don't have an ao3 account and who'd like to comment. Although I would thoroughly recommend getting an account anyway! Means you can save your favourite tags and fics :)

Yaz could run faster than Jules gave her credit for. It must have been the police training, Jules mused, because she was obviously fit, but her first impression of Yaz was clearly not as comprehensive as it could have been. Normally Jules was a pretty good judge of character, given the nature of her job. She was good at picking up clues because they helped her cure patients. It shouldn’t have been that surprising that Yaz’s work ethic translated to the football pitch, but Jules hadn’t considered that Yaz would hit the ground running quite so quickly. Her tenacity and determination transferred to the game seemingly effortlessly. Still, it wasn’t difficult to sense that despite that, Yaz was experiencing nerves and making rookie errors - her eye was more on the ball and her feet and less on where she was going, and Jules watched unobserved as Bill called out advice. She was compelling to watch, which was always the sign of a good player.

It had been several days since Jules had first caught sight of Yaz at practice and a relentless work schedule had filled most of her thoughts until that very afternoon, when the prospect of football allowed her a reprieve from the stresses of everyday life. Even then, Jules had been so caught up in training that the other team’s newest recruit came to mind only once their session had drawn to a close and she was free to watch them practice. 

It helped to stagger their training sessions so that the changing rooms weren’t too full before or afterwards, but it also afforded each team the opportunity to observe the other team in action. Graham protested at the possibility of surveillance - he was very keen on keeping their training regime under wraps with the start of the league approaching - but Jules wasn’t concerned. Her team was good, and besides, one of the best ways to learn to improve was to watch others. It was just homework. 

Which is what Jules decided to call her decision to wander over and watch Yaz in action. Homework. As simple as that. She’d never played against Yaz before and, judging by her position on the pitch with Bill in defence, she’d be coming up against her more often than not. Jules cringed internally at the thought of encountering Bill on the pitch now that they were no longer together, primarily because she still harboured guilt over how things had ended. They hadn’t really talked properly since and things were still awkward. She found it difficult to know how to proceed, primarily because Bill was an open book and had made no secret of how difficult she’d found their break-up. It wasn’t that Jules hadn’t found it difficult; rather, she kept her feelings to herself, channelling them through football instead, which unfortunately served to make things even worse. She and Bill dealt with things differently, that much was painfully obvious, and it had contributed to the weird vibe between them.

But Jules liked to face a challenge head on. She did it every day at work and most of the time, she came out on top. When it came to football she knew the odds were even better, due in large part to the hours and hours she invested in practice and also, partly, because she was naturally talented at it. Her movements often threw the opposition because they seemed uncoordinated when, usually, they were the last thing on Jules's mind because she was already one step ahead. Instead of worrying about her technique - which she knew was precise and borderline lethal - she was always calculating the next move, memorising other players’ styles, their tactics, even the way they liked to tackle. She knew all of their weak spots. 

And that was what Jules needed to do now: she needed to figure their new player, Yaz, out. And the best way to do that - as well as to dissipate the unwelcome anxiety at the prospect of playing Bill - was to call the shots.

Yaz managed to clear the ball just as Rose Tyler reached her. Moments later, Clara Oswald scored in the opposite goal but Jules barely noticed; she was too busy watching Yaz talk to Rose. She wished she could hear what they were saying but instead she watched Yaz’s face as it shifted from concentration and mild panic to relief. She had a knack for it that suggested she was hardly new to the game, if perhaps a little rusty. But Jules could see that she had an aptitude for it and she knew Yaz would get the swing of it before too long. Her confidence would come.

Jules saw a flash of pride grace Yaz’s face and knew how she felt. She remembered her first time having a kickabout with the boy who lived next door. She’d never stopped playing but it was only once she joined the army and was encouraged to take part in a game during downtime that she remembered just how much she’d loved it. And, just as it had been in the army, football was a lifeline that saw her through some tough times. It didn’t hurt that she’d been the best player out of the medics. 

She was so busy figuring out Yaz’s expressions that she was still watching them when Yaz looked directly at her and her expression changed once again, to surprise and then - was that a flash of apprehension?

It took all of Jules’s resolve to keep her gaze steady, lest she give the game away. It wasn’t often she so blatantly checked someone out, even under the pretence of watching their technique - and not their actual form, as delightful as Yaz's was - but it seemed apt that they’d now both caught each other out. Perhaps Yaz had been eyeing up the competition herself when Jules had first seen her. Except...

 _Since when had she been eyeing up Yaz's form?_ Jules belatedly realised she'd subconsciously outlined the musculature of her legs, the defined shape of her shoulders under her team kit. Yaz was in very good form, indeed, if the way her shirt fell against her stomach was any indication. But that attention to detail went above and beyond what she normally looked at in other players. Jules felt a flush of heat that had very little to do with the warm weather. _Oh, no._ She resolutely folded her arms, as if she could keep those thoughts inside by trapping them inside her chest.

Jules tried not to flinch when Ryan cottoned on to her presence and asked if Jules was there to pick up some tips. It yanked her out of her daydream and back to reality with a thud, but at least it gave her the opportunity to escape the staring competition unscathed, and an excuse for watching. He was right - she was there to observe, although she’d ended up observing one player more than any other. As Jules responded, she could hear her team wander over to join the discussion. That helped make her presence seem a little more legitimate. 

When Bill piped up, Jules knew she’d found an opening. A chance to turn the tables. Perhaps some friendly competition would give both her and Bill a chance to try and be civil around one another. It had already been a few months since the disastrous end to their relationship; their attempts at discussions thus far had fallen flat. Football could be another route to resolution, and Jules leapt at the chance. She wasn't sure what else could work when words failed her.

“Give it your best shot,” Bill challenged, her tone borderline unfriendly. “I’m pretty sure you won’t be getting past my defences again.”

There was a low whistle and Jules felt a visceral sting from the words. So much for some friendly competition. She forced a grin onto her face, pretending that it was just banter. Par for the course. It wouldn’t do to let things degenerate so rapidly and she’d essentially asked for it by challenging them to a game. Something akin to regret flickered behind Bill’s eyes before she turned to rally her team and Jules took it as a sign to do the same. But she could sense someone watching her and she could hazard a guess as to who, a guess that was proved correct when she set her peripheral vision to work. 

Jules tried to ignore the feel of Yaz’s gaze on her as she re-tied her hair. It needed cutting but work had been so busy and her free time was rare. Besides, she never normally paid that much attention to her appearance. But something about the way Yaz looked at her made her feel exposed, which was unsettling to say the least. Jules shook it off and resolutely turned her back fully on the other team. They had a job to do. 

It didn’t take long for her to get hold of the ball once the game commenced. Ryan had set them a 15 minute time limit and Jules aimed to score at least twice. Looking up the pitch, Jules could see Bill gearing up for the attack but given the interaction they’d just had, she opted to head towards Yaz’s side. She didn’t really want to brush up against Bill just yet, and besides, she really wanted to see what Yaz was made of.

But apparently her approach was a little too intimidating. Jules hadn't even considered dialling it back. Once she had possession of the ball it was like she herself was possessed. Yaz froze and Jules sailed past her easily to score. Puzzled, Jules tried to offer a consoling comment wrapped up in the form of friendly banter, even as she tried to catch her breath. 

“You snooze, you lose,” she panted, trying a reassuring smile. “No hard feelings.”

But before Yaz could even reply, Bill interjected.

“Oi, lay off it!” 

Jules felt herself stiffen at Bill’s tone. She hadn’t meant to come on so strong but Bill wasn’t really helping matters. Yaz didn’t seem too impressed, either, she was disheartened to see. 

“You too scared to come for me?” Bill continued, and Jules finally tore her gaze away from Yaz to acknowledge her.

“You don’t scare me, Bill,” she muttered, starting to wish she’d never suggested a kickabout. This was not going to plan and it didn’t take long for things to spiral rapidly from there, prompting Ryan to call an end to the game. 

Jules shrugged it off, saddened that things with Bill had soured proceedings. In a last-ditch attempt to smooth things over with Yaz, she tried again. 

“I know you can give me a run for my money,” she suggested. “Next time, eh?”

Yaz easily came back with a response and Jules could instantly sense a spark between them. 

“And all the times after,” Yaz retorted, so quickly that Jules was taken by surprise. Yaz had verve. Jules liked that she could give as good as she got. 

“I knew you had it in you,” she grinned, before sidling past her to rejoin her team. 

That interaction lingered in her mind during the drive home, and refused to budge even after she’d eaten dinner. The flat was too quiet for the noise of Jules’s thoughts, which would normally have been silenced after a successful training session. Instead, she kept thinking about her interactions with Bill and if she could have done anything differently. She wondered what Yaz made of her, given what she’d seen so far. 

She wondered about Yaz. 

Jules shook her head as she loaded the dishwasher, realising she’d spent far too long thinking about someone she shouldn’t be. She visualised Yaz on the pitch and could picture it all too well. 

“Shit,” she grumbled. That really would not do. The situation with Bill was far too messy to even think about Yaz like that and it wasn’t like she even knew Yaz at all. Jules sighed as she reached for her phone and sent a quick text to someone she knew would help, and used the intervening time to tidy her flat. It was already neat but the simplicity of the task helped put her mind at ease while she waited. 

The knock at the door was a welcome interruption, and when she opened it she knew she’d made the right call. Leaning against the doorframe was a woman who never failed to take her mind off things and right now, Jules certainly needed it. Her thoughts of Yaz had driven her to distraction and she was frustrated about the evening’s events. Here was a chance to put them right.

“Hello, sweetie,” River practically purred, and Jules smirked in response. 

“Hello, River. Come in.”

Jules stepped aside to let her guest in but the moment she had crossed the threshold and the door was closed, Jules snagged River’s wrist and pulled her close, straight into a welcome kiss. The moment their mouths met, both of them sighed happily, but it didn’t take long for it to turn heated. It had been a while since either of them had called on the other but the arrangement was one that suited them both well. A no-strings, no commitment deal that always led to satisfying sex. It didn’t hurt that River would usually lead things, and Jules needed someone to get her out of her own head. River never failed to do that. 

“Miss me?” River smiled wickedly as she pulled away. She panted slightly as she swiped at her bottom lip with her thumb, eyes flickering over Jules’s face for clues. She was already calculating her next move, Jules could tell. Surgeons were always so switched on.

“A little,” Jules admitted, her reply cautious. Although their arrangement had been in place ever since they’d met at Jules’s previous job, Jules had the feeling that River was a little more invested in things than she was. She had to be careful or they’d both get hurt, but River understood her better than anybody else ever had, even though she knew barely anything about her. And that was the way Jules liked to keep it.

River tilted her head as she regarded Jules properly. 

“Something’s on your mind. What’s wrong?”

 _Trust River to be so blunt._ _And trust her to cotton on so fast._

“Nothing,” Jules denied. “Just wanted to see you. It’s been a while.” 

River raised an eyebrow. 

“I’m not buying that for a second.”

Jules shook her head. She very much wanted to talk less, fuck more, and she reached for the buttons of River’s shirt instead to indicate precisely why she’d asked for her to come over. She really needed River to get the hint and kick things off.

“I see,” River chuckled, low and throaty. The sound sent a wave of heat straight between Jules’s legs. 

River grasped Jules’s hands and moved them aside, undoing the last buttons before tugging the hem of Jules’s t-shirt and abruptly pulling it over her head. In an unexpectedly tender gesture, she smoothed down Jules’s hair once the material was out of the way.

“Tough day?”

“Frustrating,” Jules admitted, kicking off her shorts and trying to ignore the way River was looking at her. She was already walking them backwards towards the bedroom, hoping River would stop asking questions once they were inside. She watched as River removed her heels. She always dressed impeccably. 

Jules didn’t want to think any more and they’d agreed that once sex was on the cards, there were no questions asked. But River could clearly sense that something was wrong and Jules realised she was actually concerned. Guilt flared to life again and Jules shoved it away. They were talking too much.

“It’s going to be one of those kinds of nights, isn't it?” River said lightly, letting her trousers pool around her feet at the threshold to the bedroom. Jules swallowed hard as she was confronted with the vision of River Song in her underwear. Her very lacy underwear. 

“You could say that,” Jules agreed, reaching out to trace the lace of her bra. Her heart was racing. Even though she’d seen River like this countless times, she never failed to take her breath away, and she needed to move this conversation onwards. "I think you know exactly what’s going to happen next.”

Jules struggled to keep her gaze level as River reached for the clasp of her bra and felt her blood pressure skyrocket once it fell to the floor. 

“Doctor’s orders, is it?” River nudged Jules backwards, finally taking control. Jules sighed in relief, willingly surrendering her body to the other woman. 

“Then lie back for me and relax.”

* * *

River didn’t linger afterwards. She never did. Jules watched from the bed as she gathered her clothes, her movements elegant. She stretched slightly; it had been a long day and her body was well and truly tired out, at long last. Her attempts to stay awake were in vain and despite her best efforts, Jules could feel her eyelids grow heavier with each passing moment. She didn’t want to fall asleep before River left but it was a battle she was slowly losing.

Briefly, she wondered if things would be different between herself and River in another life. They were a good match, in some respects. They clearly cared about one another. But both of them knew that they would burn each other up if they ever pursued anything more serious. Best to keep River at arm’s length, Jules mused, yawning as sleep threatened. 

She was so sleepy that she didn’t realise River was crouching beside the bed until a hand smoothed her hair in a gesture that was far more intimate than she was expecting. Jules fought her instinct to move away; she shouldn’t encourage it, really, but the simple gesture of comfort was exactly what she needed. She could pass it off as being half asleep, if she really needed to.

“One day, you might tell me what’s going on in there,” River murmured, and Jules let her eyes finally slide closed when she felt River lean in to kiss her on the forehead, as if to illustrate precisely what she was talking about. But nobody really got an insight into what Jules made tick. Not if she could help it. She’d take loneliness over that any day. If she didn’t like what was deep inside, it was highly unlikely that anybody else would. 

She was already on the cusp of sleep when the front door closed and when she finally dropped into blessed unconsciousness, she dreamed of a faceless woman with dark hair running away from her, always a step out of reach, no matter how fast she ran to keep up.


	22. Bump (II)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for blood and also flashbacks to major trauma.
> 
> I once gave myself a concussion on a pavement and spent the next 20 minutes throwing up and laughing, so I kind of think Jules’s reaction is plausible?! If not entirely normal 😂
> 
> Also I'm really sorry for what I'm putting Jules through in this. Not going to lie, there will be a bit more angst in her POV than there was in Yaz's, for obvious reasons. This was a tricky chapter to write and I sense the rest are going to be just as tricky because I introduced so many plot lines and characters in the original that this is now a bit of a juggling act haha. If you enjoy it, I'd love to hear your thoughts! (and if I messed something up, please ping me a DM ;))

_Two weeks later_

“Getting a bit chilly, isn’t it?” Graham commented, tucking the ends of his scarf inside his coat. Jules could see her own breath cloud the air and she was doing her best to ignore the goosebumps that threatened, despite the pre-game warm-up. But she knew they weren’t entirely due to the weather - a prickle of nerves was also partly to blame for the tension running through her limbs. She suppressed a shiver. 

“The perils of being a spectator, Graham.”

They slipped back into familiar banter as Jules watched more people arrive and line the pitch. Graham took pride in his role of coach and Jules knew she’d push his buttons by referring to him as a spectator. She waved when she spotted Grace in the crowd, bundled up in several layers and carrying a takeaway cup of coffee. 

“Grace doesn’t seem to mind,” Jules pointed out. “Anyway, I thought this was meant to be giving you something fun to do in your retirement?”

“Sometimes I wonder why she put the two of us together,” Graham sighed, but Jules knew he wasn’t being serious. She knew that he’d been looking for something to do with his time after he’d been forced to retire early and the West Ham scarf around his neck was symbolic of his life-long interest in the sport. Grace’s suggestion that they form a team together had been a stroke of genius and as much as Graham liked to complain, Jules could see the pride he took in his job as coach. She just liked to rib him about it. 

Talking with Graham also helped dispel some of the nerves Jules felt that morning. It wasn’t unusual to feel a little flutter of adrenaline before the first game of the league but Jules was feeling an additional twist of anxiety that had quite a lot to do with the team they happened to be playing. It had been a fortnight since her last interaction with Bill and she hoped that things might have calmed down a little in the interim. Both of their teams had been working hard in the intervening time, preparing for this game, and Jules had only caught glimpses of the other team. She’d been too focused getting her own team into shape, and they’d rarely crossed paths until the very previous evening, when she had seen none other than Yaz and Martha in the gym. 

She’d been engrossed in her weights and hadn’t realised they were there - the night before a game was the very last time she’d expect to see other players in the weights room, which was partly why she timed her visit that way - and she’d been so in the zone, listening to her music and working through reps, that she’d been genuinely surprised to see them there. Jules grimaced as she remembered the way Yaz had looked at her. The moment they locked eyes, Yaz had frowned and looked away, which was not the reaction Jules had expected to the genuine smile she’d offered them. She and Yaz really had got off on the wrong foot. 

Jules made a conscious effort not to look at the other team. The last thing she needed was to get too absorbed in her thoughts; football was one of the only ways she could get away from them and the last thing she needed was to overthink things. Her legs could do the talking this morning, once she’d pepped up her players.

“Alright, gather round!” she shouted, resolutely turning her back on the other team and focusing on her own. They had a game to win.

* * *

Jules knew her nerves stemmed from the simple fact that she played in attack and the people she wished to avoid played in defence. It was inevitable they’d have to meet on the pitch and although Jules had wanted to delay that encounter, the time had come for her to face them head on. Besides, her need to score was greater than her desire to avoid conflict. 

To her surprise and delight, it didn’t take long to score. She was fuelled by the support of the crowd and the adrenaline that was coursing through her veins. The feeling was addictive and it fuelled her effortlessly, almost instantly cancelling out any nerves she’d felt before the whistle had blown. She came up against Yaz within minutes, moving so fast that Yaz’s attempt at a tackle only slowed her slightly - but it was stubborn enough that it had caused them to smack into one other. Jules ignored the way that the contact lingered - her arm throbbed dully even while she scored - and realised that Yaz was going to put up more of a defence than she’d expected. 

That was something. Jules thrived on the challenge and now she had a better feel for Yaz’s style of play. Bill and Martha were easy enough to work around given how often they'd played against one another but Yaz had been more of an unknown quantity. Now, Jules felt far more confident in her understanding of Yaz as a player, if not a person. That part was frustratingly obscure and it put her on the back foot. She liked to think that she was good at understanding people, so why was Yaz so hard to read? Why did she feel self-conscious around her? Jules had never felt so insecure around other women and she shook her head, trying to dispel the thought. Why did she care what Yaz thought of her? She couldn’t lose focus, not now, and certainly not over someone she was currently playing a game against. 

Her stubbornness meant that she instead aimed for Bill's area of the pitch next time, eyes fixed ahead and listening out for her teammates as she and Bill finally crossed paths. But Bill was ready; they tussled with the ball, both of them breathing hard, and Jules let out a frustrated sound when she realised that Bill wasn’t going to give up easily. When Bill accidentally nudged the ball over the line, Jules breathed a sigh of relief. A corner kick. Just what she needed to regain control.

Jules caught her breath as one of her teammates grabbed the ball, then re-tied her hair. The last thing she needed was impeded vision but beyond that she didn’t really care how scruffy it looked - all that mattered was that she needed it out of her face. Not for the first time she wished she’d cut it shorter and she blew stray strands of it out of her face as she glanced around briefly to assess the space around her. There was a person standing just behind her but beyond their proximity, Jules paid them no mind - her focus was entirely on getting possession of the ball, not who was marking her. Besides, she could sense that it was Yaz, hovering behind her like a shadow, and that was enough.

The smack of the ball being kicked into the air released the tension in her legs and she jumped instinctively, subconsciously gauging the speed and angle of the ball as it headed straight for her. The human brain was an incredible thing and Jules marvelled at how little mental effort she needed to devote to those calculations; all that she knew was that she was going for the ball, and nobody would get in her way.

She was proved utterly incorrect when her head encountered something far more solid than the ball, and far more rapidly than she’d expected. The sound of the contact echoed in her skull as her eyes slammed shut and then there was an explosion of pain from her nose, a sharp sting that was followed shortly by the sensation of wet heat cascading freely over her top lip. Then, she was falling, barely opening her eyes to put out her hands in time. Still, she landed awkwardly, and then someone was on top of her, breathing hard. 

She could feel her own chest rising and falling rapidly and she took comfort in the sensation because the explosion of pain in her head was confusing. There was the sound of a whistle, and shouting, and the person on top of her swore. Jules finally focused her eyes just as Yaz scrambled away, swearing again before she flopped onto the grass. 

“Oh god,” she groaned, rolling onto her side to see several pairs of boots surrounding her. She didn't know who they belonged to, only that there were far too many witnesses to what had just happened. 

“Jules! You ok?”

Donna’s voice cut through the chatter and Jules had never heard her sound so concerned. Then again, she’d never managed to headbutt someone during a game before. The concept was an alien one and Jules would have thought she'd imagined it if it wasn't for the pain skating across her face at regular intervals. After several deep breaths she got a handle on it.

Of course she’d headbutted Yaz, of all people. Jules started to laugh at the universe’s idea of a joke, pushing herself upright onto her hands even as her head protested the movement. She took several steadying breaths, trying to ignore the nausea in her stomach. 

“Take it easy,” Graham chided, and then Jules could see him kneeling in the grass next to her. She hadn't realised he'd joined the huddle.

“Your knees,” she murmured, knowing they pained him. For some reason she couldn’t quite think straight and the idea just made her want to laugh even more. She stopped abruptly when she tasted iron in her mouth and she turned and spat the blood out of her mouth, desperately wanting to get rid of the taste. 

“Someone get me some water,” she heard Graham say, and then Grace was there, talking to her and asking her questions, trying to inspect her nose, but Jules brushed her off. She laughed again but it sounded hollow to her own ears and Grace mentioned something about shock and she laughed harder, and then someone was abruptly breaking through the protective circle of people surrounding her. 

Jules glanced up to see Yaz. Yaz had come over. Her head was already swelling where they’d collided and Jules belatedly realised she was still laughing. She’d been so wrong in her assumptions. Yaz was far more stubborn than she’d thought and they were apparently both as stubborn as each other. 

“What the hell?” Yaz asked. She sounded angry and Jules felt vulnerable on the ground. She pushed herself to her feet unaided, lurching only slightly, which she considered a victory, but she noted that Martha had to lend Yaz some support to stay upright. That wasn’t a good sign.

“Both of you, off the pitch,” Martha said, her tone stern, but Jules shook her head. She wanted to keep playing. It was only a little blood and she said as much, but Martha resolutely shook her head and Jules felt her stomach sink when Grace mirrored her. She was outnumbered. Absently, she lifted her shirt to wipe away the blood that insisted on coating her top lip, wincing as she nudged her nose. She realised they had a point when she saw how much blood coated her kit. 

“Come on, off you get,” Graham encouraged, and Grace offered to help until Jules insisted that she was fine, she just needed to sit down. That in itself was a lie; if she couldn’t play, she didn’t want to hang around. But they were following Yaz to the stands and Jules needed a minute to collect herself, even if she would never admit that much. Her face was starting to ache and she was beyond frustrated at what had happened. It didn’t seem like she’d ever get to make a good impression on Yaz at this rate. She could feel the stares of the crowd and although she’d thrived on the attention before, now she just wanted to leave. She was normally far more in control of her surroundings; she never normally lost focus during a game and the moment she had done so, she’d managed to headbutt the very person who’d distracted her. The thought made her uncomfortable because Jules had no idea how Yaz had managed to infiltrate her thoughts so easily. 

“Take a drink,” Graham suggested, unscrewing the lid of the water bottle in his hands and swapping it once Jules was done for some cotton wool to wipe the blood away. “Unless you’d rather I did it?” he asked. It was a genuine offer but Graham knew that Jules was likely to decline and she gingerly shook her head, dabbing at the mess under her nose until she’d gone through so many cotton wool balls that she lost count. They formed a pyramid by her feet. 

“Are you sure you don’t want Grace to take a look?” he asked, squinting at her face in concern. 

Jules gasped as she swiped impatiently at yet more blood. It seemed to be slowing, at least. 

“I’m fine,” she muttered, although she sounded far more bunged up than usual. She took an experimental sniff, feeling sick when she felt the blood cascade down her throat. But it helped; she could breathe more freely and she tilted her head back to try and encourage the blood to go elsewhere. She could hear Graham ripping open packaging and then a cold wipe was pressed into her hand. 

“Just to get the rest off,” he said, gesturing to areas of his own face to indicate just how much of a mess her own was. 

“Eugh,” Jules sighed, wiping at the streaks that had adorned her cheeks. She tried not to look at the used material after; she hated the sight of her own blood. 

Graham was still squinting at her. 

"I don't think it's broken, Doc," he said, and Jules flapped a hand at him as she pulled away. The sharp pain had turned into a persistent throb and now that the blood had stopped streaming from her nose - which was apparently not even broken - she wanted to get back into the game and not dwell on what had just happened. Once again, Graham wasn’t having any of it. 

“No chance, cockle. If you won't take an ice pack, at least give yourself a break because I reckon that'll start to hurt in a moment."

Jules shrugged. She didn't want his sympathy and she didn't need it. A bumped nose shouldn't get in the way of the game and they still had 15 minutes to go. She was made of tough stuff, and she could handle it. Her team needed her.

"I’ve been through worse. You know that, Graham.” 

Graham dipped his head. He knew only too well what she could be like and although Jules felt a little guilty about snapping at him, she was keen to redeem herself on the pitch. When he softened his tone, Jules felt even worse. 

“That might be the case, but I’m not taking any chances with your head. You know the risks.”

As usual, Graham had a point, and Jules felt herself deflate in the face of his concern. She could just about ignore the pain but it really would be foolish to run around with a potential concussion. She slumped into the seat and folded her arms, knowing she was being churlish when Graham told her to stay put and she told him she didn’t like being told what to do. He gave her a consoling pat on the knee and Jules resigned herself to the fact that she had to sit and watch the rest of the game, rather than take part in it. She was never benched and she didn’t enjoy the concerned looks people were shooting in her direction. She didn’t much like being pitied.

When she saw Clara waving at the stands she turned to see Yaz waving back and realised with a jolt that she’d almost forgotten she wasn’t alone. Given that she had nothing else to do and, really, that she was actually a bit worried about Yaz’s head given the way they'd collided, Jules decided to break the ice. 

“You feeling okay, Yaz?"

Yaz abandoned the wave, looking at Jules in surprise. Perhaps she’d forgotten she wasn’t alone, either, Jules thought. But instead of speaking Yaz just gawped at her and Jules felt her concern grow. She shifted up the seats until they were right next to one another and held up her index finger. She'd done the exam often enough in A&E that it came as second nature; she tried to ignore just how closely they were seated as she watched Yaz's response carefully.

“Yaz? I need you to follow my finger, okay?”

Yaz nodded, eyes fixed on Jules’s face rather than her finger. Jules at least had a reason to be looking into Yaz’s eyes. Yaz, on the other hand, seemed distracted.

For a few seconds they simply looked at one another, heedless of the digit between them, until Jules had to acknowledge that she really couldn't do the exam unless Yaz followed her instructions. She cleared her throat, reluctant to shatter the moment; up close, Yaz was even prettier than Jules had realised. Jules documented a scar on her forehead, the length of her eyelashes, and the perfect swell of her lips. When her thoughts turned distinctly less clinical, Jules finally broke the silence.

“You have to watch the finger, Yaz,” she suggested softly, “not my face.”

“Right.” Yaz seemed to blush as she belatedly fixed her gaze on her finger and Jules silently tracked her eyes as they moved. There didn't seem to be a problem, Jules was relieved to note. The last thing she wanted was to have given Yaz a serious head injury. 

“What are you, a doctor?” Yaz asked when Jules lowered her finger. 

“Something like that,” Jules acknowledged. “I don’t think you have a concussion, but just take it easy.”

“What about you?” Yaz asked, and Jules turned away to look back at the pitch. Now that she didn't have an excuse to be so close to Yaz, she realised she should probably move; more than anything, she was relieved that Yaz was at least talking to her. It was hard to know where she stood because all of their interactions thus far had been on the pitch and tinged with tension that Jules suspected had a lot to do with Bill's presence.

She sighed as she watched the game, feeling Yaz watch her. To her surprise, her blatant gaze didn't make her uncomfortable. It suggested that Yaz was just as intrigued by Jules as she was by Yaz. At least, that was what Jules hoped, and given that this was the first time they'd spent time alone together, Jules tried to relax under the silent scrutiny. She didn’t want to mess things up any further.

“I have a head like concrete," Jules admitted, feeling a smile tug at her lips and ignoring the way it pulled on the swollen skin of her cheek.

“You mean you’re stubborn?”

Jules laughed in surprise at Yaz's bluntness and was delighted to hear Yaz laugh, too. Maybe they were making progress. Jules turned to glance briefly at her before she chanced it.

“Just about as stubborn as you, going for the ball like that," she challenged. She reached for Yaz's hand, which had started to drop from her head. 

"Here, keep that cold pack on it," she insisted, wrapping her hand securely over Yaz's to guide it back the bump on her forehead. 

“I don’t think I need it anymore,” Yaz protested, but she let Jules move her hand nonetheless. Jules marvelled at how Yaz's hand seemed smaller within her own. Her skin was soft and cool to the touch, no doubt thanks to the cold pack it was holding.

“Say that to the egg on your head," Jules grimaced. Although it had been an accident, she did feel truly bad about it; in retrospect she could probably have guessed that Yaz might also have gone for the ball. She was tenacious in defence, and Jules had to give her credit for having no fear when many other players would have shrunk away from confrontation.

“Oh no,” Yaz huffed. “I’m meant to be going to a wedding tomorrow.”

Jules pulled a sympathetic face. Then she asked the first thing that popped into her mind, because making conversation was something that people did when they tried to get to know somebody better and more than anything, Jules wanted to get to know Yaz a little more.

Later, she'd blame the bump to the head for her lack of tact, but deep down she knew she'd wanted to know the answer. Asking someone if they had a wedding date was a fairly innocuous way of finding out if they were single.

“I’m sure your wedding date won’t mind.” Jules fixed her gaze forward, trying not to attach too much weight to the question. She didn’t understand how being around made Yaz made her lose her confidence, so when Yaz didn’t answer immediately and instead shifted in her seat, Jules kept pushing through her uncharacteristic awkwardness.

“Or have you not got one?” she asked, genuinely intrigued. But her question was clearly misjudged because Yaz shut her down almost instantly.

“Is that any of your business?”

Jules flinched just as the whistle blew - perfect timing - calling an end to their interaction. Yaz got to her feet and headed back to her team and Jules blew out a long breath, wondering how she managed to consistently fuck things up. She acted so clumsily around Yaz that she kept surprising herself.

Yaz didn’t even spare her a backwards glance and once again, Jules found herself scrambling to find her footing. The mixed signals Yaz gave off were baffling and although Jules wanted more than anything to understand, perhaps Yaz was just a mystery she would never get to the bottom of. Right now, she just needed a shower and a nap, and to forget the events of the morning.

Jules didn’t manage to get a look at the damage to her face until she made it home, and in the safety of her bathroom she inspected the swelling around her nose. She’d definitely have a black eye and she bit back a groan of pain as she scrubbed at the remnants of dried blood under her nose. It might not be broken but it was certainly swollen and she looked like a ghost, pale in the bathroom light. 

How did Yaz perceive her? Probably as some arrogant, egotistical player. Jules sighed as she crumpled up the bloodied tissue and threw it in the bin. No doubt Bill had talked to Yaz about their breakup by now. Perhaps that was why Yaz was giving her such mixed messages. And yet...Jules had sensed a spark between them on the pitch, and when she’d held her finger up for Yaz to follow they’d stared at one another instead. That spark persisted long after those moments had passed and refused all of Jules’s attempts to quash it. But she didn’t want to get hurt again, and she didn’t want to hurt anybody else in the same way she’d hurt Bill. It was simpler, and safer, to be alone. At least she had River for when the loneliness became too overwhelming. 

Except when Jules bolted upright in bed in the early hours of the next morning, she knew she’d never find River next to her. It was one of the reasons she never stayed the night; more often than not, Jules would awake like she just had, a cry on her lips and drenched in sweat. She gasped in the dark, sheets pooled around her knees as she tried to catch her breath and dispel the lingering images of the dream her brain had provided. Her shoulder ached - a phantom pain but one that was made worse by the fact she’d forgotten to stretch after the match - and Jules grabbed it, massaging the muscle roughly as she focused on the pain instead of the remnants of her dream. 

She was certain she could still hear the explosion echoing in her ears. The taste of blood was still fresh and Jules knew there was a logical explanation - that she’d tasted it earlier that very day - but the memories were so vivid that it was almost like she was cast back into the precise moment she’d been haunted by for the past several years. It would always be with her, she knew, just like she knew it had changed her life in ways that she was still struggling to understand. Technically, she had died that day, like every other member of her unit. But she’d been lucky, or so she’d been told; she’d been brought back. The others hadn’t. But Jules knew the person who’d survived was very different to the one who had died. She’d healed, regenerated and repaired and fixed herself in a physical sense, but the person she’d become was someone she was still trying to get to grips with. 

Jules impatiently shrugged off the sheets, hating the way they clung to her skin. It made her claustrophobic. She shivered as the cool air swept over her sweaty skin; a warm shower would help but more urgently, she knew she needed to clear her mind. She grabbed her phone, heading for the living room and sticking the TV on. It was 3am, which limited her options, but a classic movie channel was showing something in black and white and she settled on that as she pulled her knees to her chest and mutely stared at the screen, desperate for a connection to the outside world. The old-fashioned speech and costumes were distracting enough that Jules could calm herself. What was on screen was nothing like her own reality and Jules let herself be swept up in the fiction of it all, much like the debutante on screen was swept off her feet by some debonair socialite.

After an hour, her heart had settled from its double rhythm to something more acceptable and she reached for her phone with a trembling hand. She needed to speak to someone. She scrolled past the messages from Donna, surprised to see that Bill had also messaged her, and opened up her chat thread with River. She couldn’t deal with anyone else just now and River was, more often than not, on shift or not sleeping. She was a reliable port of call at all hours. 

_You’re up late. Are you working?_

_No._

Except now that she’d started the conversation, Jules realised she’d made a mistake. She didn’t actually want to see River - she didn’t want River to see her like this - and River would know something was wrong. Jules wondered how to extricate herself from a situation of her own creation. 

_It's 4am, sweetie. Can you not sleep?_

Jules started typing and deleted a response so many times that River eventually continued messaging, sensing her difficulties.

_I could tire you out but I'm on call. I can come over afterwards?_

Jules sighed as she backed out of the conversation. 

_No it's ok. I should let you get some sleep._

River’s response surprised her; Jules had been expecting a joke but instead she got honest concern. She felt a spike of guilt. What was she doing? River didn't need this.

_Are you alright?_

Jules debated whether to tell the truth, but the truth was that they didn’t have that kind of relationship. Thankfully, it was easy to hide behind a text message. 

_Always._


	23. Social (II)

Despite her best efforts, Jules was only human. So, when she happened to bump into River during their team social a few weeks later, there was only so much she could do about the situation - it wasn't like she could up and leave because for a start, Donna would never let her live it down. And more than anything, River's presence was a very welcome one. 

After the collision with Yaz, Bill had messaged Jules to ask if her head was alright. At the same time, she had suggested they host their upcoming league-wide social at the very bar where they had first met during a previous football social. The rest was history; that night had led to a short-lived, one-sided relationship that was still making waves even now. As a result, Jules didn’t have a particular inclination to return to the bar, but she knew that suggesting an alternative venue would be futile. The bar Bill had mentioned was a popular suggestion, evidenced by the fact that apparently all of the other participating teams had voted for it, too, and as one of the biggest bars in Sheffield - gay or otherwise - it was also a logical choice. At least Bill seemed to acknowledge that the choice of bar could be potentially awkward because she'd promised to keep things civil. It felt like an olive branch of a sort, which surprised Jules, so much so that she resisted asking about Yaz in her reply. She and Bill were making tentative steps towards patching things up and that was all Jules could ask or hope for. 

Jules suspected that Amy had been a positive influence behind Bill's message when she caught sight of them being overly friendly across the room. It was dark, sure enough, but not that dark. She wondered if they knew how obvious they were being and she frowned when she took another drink, only to realise her glass was empty. It was still early in the evening and she'd already had a few mixers, which was par for the course on nights like this. When Jules caught sight of Graham a few metres down the bar she chuckled at the look on his face. He'd need quite a few more drinks, it seemed, before he could adjust to his new environment. At least this was a bar that Jules could feel reasonably at home in. 

A voice behind her cut through her thoughts, just loud enough to be heard over the music.

"Same again?"

Jules froze. She hadn't heard someone get that close and the voice wasn’t one she had expected to hear at all. She'd tried to reign in her surprise when she turned to see none other than River at the bar, but subtlety wasn't her strong point and River smiled at her attempt at playing it cool. 

Her grin only broadened when Jules realised what she was wearing, her eyes widening accordingly. A low-cut dress looked like it had been made especially for her, hugging and highlighting her curves in ways that should have been illegal.

"My eyes are up here, sweetie," River said, before leaning in to speak directly into Jules's ear. Her perfume was intoxicating and Jules had to make a conscious effort to keep her hands away from the smooth skin on show. 

"But maybe later you can undress me with your hands, instead."

Jules swallowed hard as she felt arousal flare to life between her legs at the words. River could be wicked at the best of times and she'd taken Jules by complete surprise. But their dynamic was a familiar one and after a beat, Jules welcomed it like an old friend. 

"Is that a promise?" she asked, pleased by the turn of events and sliding into her role comfortably. It was a welcome distraction. 

Despite the number of players saturating the bar, Jules had been keeping an eye out not only for Bill, but for Yaz. She had been a little apprehensive at meeting Yaz in this environment and until that point, all she had expected was to feel awkward for most of the evening and then go home alone, probably worse for wear and likely to hate herself in the morning because of the amount of alcohol she'd drunk. Especially if Donna kept feeding her shots.

Besides, it would be rude to turn River down when she was right there, willing and able. Jules ordered them both gin and tonics without even asking River for her order. She knew what she liked.

"So, what brings you here?" River asked, taking a healthy sip of the drink Jules handed to her. River’s eyes, which were emphasised by some precisely applied eyeliner and smoky eyeshadow, were focused on Jules and Jules only. Jules let herself get lost in them, but even then she could feel the eyes of others on them. River had a way of attracting attention and Jules felt a flush of pride at the idea that she'd be the one to take River home at the end of the evening. It was just the confidence boost she needed to take her mind off the other people in the room. 

“Dancing,” Jules replied. “Come on.” She downed her drink, grimacing at the cold clink of ice against her teeth. River raised an eyebrow in alarm but said nothing, gamely drinking half of hers before abandoning the rest and letting Jules lead her onto the dancefloor.

“What’s got into you?” she asked, gasping when Jules pulled her close. Her hands were placed squarely on River’s hips, broadcasting her intentions to anyone who cared to look. 

“About six old fashioneds and now, a G&T.”

“You know what I mean,” River muttered, looping her arms around Jules’s shoulders as they slid into an easy rhythm. They were like well-oiled pieces in a machine, accustomed to one another and in tune with the subtle signs and signals that the other gave off. It was almost like a game of chess, Jules mused, briefly lifting her hand to brush her thumb against River’s cheek. Each move was calculated, designed to lead them to bed in the next few hours. They knew how to play each other but even so, when Jules captured River’s lips in a kiss she could sense that she’d taken her by surprise. After a moment, the arms around her neck tightened and Jules deepened the kiss, certain she could hear Donna shouting over the music. 

She paid her no mind, lifting her hands to play with River’s hair. She knew River liked that and she smiled against River’s mouth when she felt her sigh into the kiss. 

“Not that I’m complaining, but I thought you’d want to woo me a bit, first,” River breathed when she pulled away. Jules wiped a stray smudge of red lipstick from her lip with her thumb. 

“I think we both know how this is going to end,” Jules replied. “But if you like, why don’t we chat for a bit? There,” she nodded to an empty booth. The dance floor had started to fill up, leaving more seats free. “Grab a seat and I’ll get some more drinks.”

“Alright,” River replied, although Jules could tell she wasn’t entirely convinced. She squared her shoulders, making a beeline for the bar and ignoring the banter being fired at her from her teammates. She gave Donna the finger at the mention of River being a milf.

But she didn’t quite make it to the bar; someone caught her eye. A woman with dark hair was slumped over one of the tables, head on her hands. Jules paused just long enough to realise it was Yaz and she faltered. River was waiting for her and what Yaz was doing was none of her business. But Yaz was also alone, looking worse for wear. 

Jules was torn. Perhaps Yaz just needed a moment. Socials could be overwhelming at the best of times. Although it pained her, Jules promised herself she’d check in if Yaz hadn’t moved in the next ten minutes and, conscience eased, continued to the bar. But when she re-joined River, she couldn’t help the way her gaze drifted across the room. Yaz hadn’t moved. 

“Someone’s had a bit too much to drink,” River laughed. It wasn’t a cruel sound but Jules couldn’t find it in herself to join in. Her lack of response seemed to stump River.

“Don't look so serious, love. Talk to me,” River encouraged. 

“I- sorry. We were in the middle of something, weren’t we?” Jules replied, tearing her eyes away from Yaz and focusing on River instead. It had only been four minutes. Six more minutes until she had to make a decision. 

Their next kiss was more private but no less heated; still, it felt different to the one they’d shared on the dance floor. A little stilted. Both of them could tell that something had shifted. Whatever flame they’d stoked and cultivated had almost fizzled out in the time it had taken Jules to get the next round of drinks in. 

“What’s wrong?” River frowned, genuinely confused. Jules sighed, frustrated with herself. She had the undivided attention of a beautiful woman and the promise of an unforgettable evening on the cards, which was much better than anything she’d been expecting, and yet...she was thinking about Yaz. 

“Jules?” River asked, cupping her chin. “What’s happened?”

“Nothing,” Jules shook her head in frustration, nudging River’s hand away in the process. She tried to ignore how River pulled it back, closing in on herself. 

Why did she have to make things so messy? Not for the first time, Jules wondered just what she was doing with River. 

“It’s not nothing, honey.” River’s voice had an edge to it but her voice was still kind. “Something’s changed, and I don’t mean just now. You’ve been distracted recently. Not all there when we’re together.”

Jules cast another glance across the room at Yaz, who was still slumped over the table. 

“My friend,” Jules offered, pointing at Yaz. It didn’t feel right to call Yaz that, but she didn’t know how else to describe her. “I’m just a bit worried about her.”

River glanced over her shoulder and something dawned on her face. Jules couldn’t quite figure it out and she blamed it on the lack of decent lighting.

“Ah. I see. You should have told me there was something going on, honey.”

“What? No, there’s nothing,” Jules protested. “Yaz doesn’t even like me that much.” That much was true, at least, but it felt strange to actually use her name given the context of the conversation. “I just...I’m worried about her. She’s not moved for at least eight minutes.”

“And you’ve been counting the exact minutes instead of just asking if she’s alright?” River pointed out. 

For a moment, Jules thought she’d really managed to piss River off, until a grin tugged at her rouged lips. Lips that only minutes ago were kissing her now seemed out of bounds as River folded her arms in a gesture that even Jules could decipher. Her plans for the evening had gone out of the window once again and now Jules had no idea what was going to happen. All she knew was that instead of going home with River, something about Yaz’s posture was calling to her. She couldn’t leave her like that. 

“One minute she’s a friend, the next you say she doesn’t like you that much,” River pointed out and Jules tried not to flinch at her surgical precision. She felt like she was being dissected. "Something doesn’t add up, sweetie.”

River seemed torn between wanting to say more and wanting to leave. Jules bit her lip as she waited for River to decide; she knew that she wasn’t explaining herself well and that was partly down to the fact that she couldn’t quite figure out what she wanted to say.

“Alright. I think that’s my cue,” River said with finality, getting to her feet unsteadily. Her drink was gone, just like Jules's hopes for the evening. “Just one thing.”

“Anything,” Jules replied instantly, wondering if she should try and salvage the situation. But she wasn’t sure what there was left to salvage.

“You’ll tell me, won’t you? When it happens. Because it will.”

Jules frowned. She’d had more than a few drinks but River was being so vague that she knew her lack of comprehension wasn’t entirely due to the alcohol.

“What?” she shouted over the music. Somehow it felt wrong to be having this conversation in Sheffield’s busiest gay bar. River’s expression suggested something far more serious than Jules was equipped to deal with after that much alcohol.

“When you find her. That woman I can never be. Because there won’t be room for both of us.”

Jules felt her shoulders slump when she realised what River was getting at. River smiled sadly at her, but when Jules tried to speak she held up a finger to her lips. 

“Shh, sweetie. It’s inevitable.” Jules dipped her head. She didn’t like to hear the words aloud but River continued, regardless. “And when it does, I want to know. Don’t dissemble. Don’t lie to me. That’s all I ask.”

Jules swallowed hard. Any buzz she’d had from the alcohol or the kissing or the promise of sex dissipated instantly. River wasn’t ending things but she was alluding to an end and, from the way she was describing it, their time together was more finite than Jules had considered before. As much as she’d been dancing around the prospect of cooling things down, the idea of losing River entirely was not pleasant to contemplate, especially not right now. 

So, she nodded, her expression sombre. The music sounded loud and awful and she wanted to go home but River was brushing a kiss against her cheek and saying she’d be in touch and then she was gone, her perfume lingering for a second before it was also lost to the night. Jules slumped back into the seat, allowing herself a moment to collect her thoughts. 

River was right, of course. If Jules was to pursue anything remotely serious with someone else then there was no way she could still see River. But there was no chance of anything happening with anyone, at least not right now. And, ironically, Jules was certain that nothing was going to happen with Yaz given how things had gone so far.

The thought of Yaz prompted Jules to get to her feet and she noted that Yaz was still unattended. Bill was not being a good team captain by leaving her like that, but Jules knew that she was otherwise preoccupied with Amy and it wasn’t like she herself had been on her best behaviour. People rarely were during socials and although it made her feel bad, Jules was relieved that her decision to choose Yaz over River had clearly been the right one. Yaz needed someone to look after her, and that person, apparently, was going to be her. Jules took a breath and slid into the booth next to the other woman, careful not to jostle her. 

“You ok?” she asked, raising her voice over the music. 

Yaz looked thoroughly confused and more than a little drunk when she lifted her head to acknowledge her. 

“Why are you here? You were busy,” Yaz slurred, pointing at the dancefloor. To what she was alluding was hardly subtle given the clumsy hand gesture, but Jules hadn’t been subtle all evening and she wondered just how many people had seen her and River kissing. Her more sober self chastised her drunk self for being so blase. She’d been so relieved for the distraction and borderline triumphant that she had River Song on her arm that she’d thrown caution to the wind, aided by too many strong drinks. Now the repercussions were making themselves known.

“You should go away, carry on scoring,” Yaz mumbled, barely audible over the background noise. It had become even noisier inside the bar, and now the drunken chatter was competing with the music. “You’re good at that. Don’t let me stop you.”

Yaz’s drunk logic made Jules laugh, even though she felt worry niggle at her gut and a flash of hurt at her words. Every time she talked with Yaz, things never quite went the way she expected, and this conversation was no different. She felt like she was walking on thin ice but at least Yaz was talking to her. That would make things a little easier when the time came for Yaz to go home.

“Always getting through, no matter what,” Yaz hiccuped, then scowled. Perhaps Yaz would be more resistant to leaving with Jules than she’d expected.

Jules sighed. By now, she’d lost track of Yaz’s analogy and was more than a little tired and ready to leave. The evening really hadn’t gone to plan and the alcohol had left her feeling rough around the edges. River’s words echoed in her mind and she wondered what on earth she was doing. Jules reminded herself of why she’d come over in the first place: to make sure that Yaz was alright and make sure that she made it home in one piece. It was time to tackle the second part of her plan, because at this rate she wasn’t sure she’d get an answer to the first part.

“I’m not really sure what you’re getting at,” she admitted, “but I’m not leaving you like this. Come on, at least let me call you a cab.”

Yaz outright refused her attempts to help her stand upright, but when she stumbled for the third time Jules had had enough. She encouraged Yaz to put her arm around her shoulder, relieved when the drunk woman finally listened to her advice. The thought of scooping her up off the sticky floor didn’t appeal in the slightest and the last thing she wanted was for Yaz to hurt herself.

They made it to the door with relative ease once Yaz accepted her assistance; Jules flashed a winning smile at the bouncer, who was friendly enough but Jules knew it paid to keep the bouncers on side if they ever wanted to come back for a future night out. The idea wasn’t appealing at that moment, however; Jules thought that if she saw the inside of that bar again it would be too soon.

"She's fine. Just had a bit too much fun,” she told the doorman, already hearing her ears start to ring as the music started to recede.

“Have a good night ladies,” he smiled, opening the door for them. Jules thanked him profusely - she’d not been looking forward to trying to open it with an armful of Yaz - but the way he said the words reminded her that her evening was ending very differently to how it could have. 

Judging from the random stream of thought emerging from Yaz’s mouth, the next morning was going to be interesting. Jules was glad for her strict gym routine because she was certain she’d have struggled to get Yaz across the road otherwise; still, when they made it across, she took a moment to catch her breath and pool her energy for what was to come.

Jules could see the carnage in the bar from the outside and was relieved to have made it out reasonably unscathed. She was pretty certain she could spot Graham being chatted up by the bartender, though, and waved at Donna through the window to let her know she was heading home.

Fumbling only slightly with her phone, Jules ordered an Uber and breathed in the night air, encouraging Yaz to do the same. The cold air was sobering her up, even if it wasn’t working on Yaz; when she wobbled slightly on her feet and muttered something about feeling sick, Jules sent up a silent prayer that they’d make it back to her flat without incident. She didn’t even bother asking Yaz for her address because given the state Yaz was in, there was no way she could be left alone, and Jules had no idea who she even lived with. 

There was a moment of blessed silence as Yaz tried to get a handle on her nausea. Jules kept her breathing steady, encouraging Yaz to follow suit. But something was bugging her. In amongst all of Yaz’s drunk chat was a statement Jules was still playing on her mind. 

“What did you mean when you said I’m always getting through?” she asked, unable to help herself. 

Yaz scoffed. 

“Nothing. Think you know, don’t you?”

“I genuinely don’t,” Jules replied, bemused by the contradictory response. Perhaps asking had been a bad idea. She decided to let the line of questioning drop but was surprised, moments later, when Yaz resurrected it of her own accord. 

“I don't get you. At. All,” Yaz intoned dramatically. “But you're always just...there. Even now.”

“It’s not like I could leave you alone,” Jules replied, biting back a smile as Yaz rolled her eyes. 

“My knight in shining armour.”

Jules chuckled.

“How'd that wedding go?” she asked after a moment, more to keep Yaz awake than anything else. It wasn’t like she had much else to go on.

“Boring,” Yaz drawled. “My mum was well pissed off about my head. Thanks for that, by the way.”

Before Jules could say anything in her defence, Yaz started to giggle. It was contagious and Jules found herself laughing, too, at the ridiculous situation they’d found themselves in. 

When Yaz stopped suddenly, Jules braced herself. Drunk Yaz was apparently even more unpredictable than regular Yaz.

“But not as pissed off as she was when I wouldn't agree to her date,” she said, suddenly solemn. 

“Oh?” Jules asked, intrigued. Finally, Yaz was answering her match-day question in the most roundabout way possible, and when she opened her mouth she said the most Jules had ever heard her speak.

“Yeah,” Yaz slurred. “He was fine, don’t get me wrong. Boring. But fine. Not who I’d choose. Can you imagine me taking a woman to a traditional wedding, though? Mum would pitch a fit.”

Jules held her breath as Yaz leaned into her, struggling to keep her eyes open as the Uber pulled up beside them. With some difficulty, Jules helped her into it, grateful once again for her upper body strength when the strength seemed to leave Yaz’s legs entirely. She was still mulling over the implications of what Yaz had said as she buckled her seatbelt for her, trying to ignore the way that Yaz’s hair tickled her cheek.

Yaz liked women. That nugget of information was hard-earned and Jules treasured it more than she thought she ought to. 

“Sorry for being a dick,” Yaz mumbled, and then she abruptly passed out on Jules’s shoulder, leaving Jules to her thoughts. Jules only half noticed; she was too busy slotting the new puzzle piece into place, not that she had many for it to join. She didn’t even know Yaz’s last name but the trail of clues that she was amassing was even more intriguing than she’d realised. And when she felt Yaz snort against her shoulder, she wondered just how long she could follow the trail for. 


	24. Counterpoise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As with the first chapter of Jules’s POV, I am not in the army and I never have been so please take everything about that with a huge pinch of salt. I did as much research as I could so hopefully it’s not wildly inaccurate!
> 
> I feel like quite a lot of chapters in the Jules POV chapters won't feature a huuuuge amount of dialogue because otherwise it just repeats Yaz's POV. There are snippets and scenes that we haven't seen before but this is a lot more introspective than the first half. Of course, once we match up the POVs and get onto new content it'll be all fresh and I can't wait to share the rest of the story :D

Jules awoke with a dry mouth and a racing heart. Within seconds, she’d scanned her surroundings - confused as to why she wasn’t in her own bed, and wondering what had woken her up - and, once she recognised that she was home and safe, calmly let the memories of the previous night filter back into her mind. She’d been a little drunk but had sobered up, just early enough to derail her plans with River and look after Yaz instead. Yaz...she’d taken Yaz home. The recollection prompted others to flash to mind in rapid succession and Jules chuckled as she recalled just how drunk Yaz had been. At least that explained why she was on the sofa. 

The sound of a car door slamming outside restored some sense of reality. The noise was probably what had woken her up in the first place, but the lingering effects of the alcohol had messed up her sleep and left her on edge. It was always the same, and Jules never learned. She was far too old for this. 

Jules’s head span a little as she sat upright, biting back a groan and wrinkling her nose at the stale taste in her mouth. She gingerly reached for the bottle of water she’d had the presence of mind to leave on the coffee table. It helped, but before long she’d need a strong coffee. She’d work up to it.

Had she left some water for Yaz? She hoped so. Jules took another gulp, and then another, casting her mind back to the early hours of the morning. There were no sounds of life from down the hall so she indulged herself in a moment of reflection, relaxing into the couch cushions. She stretched her back as she did so; although her sofa was normally pretty comfortable, she’d just discovered it wasn’t all that nice to sleep on. Jules gave herself a free pass. It wasn’t like she normally slept on her own couch, but if Yaz was going to wake up in a strange bed, Jules was going to make sure she woke up alone. She’d woken up hungover in a stranger’s bed enough times to know the horror that accompanied the realisation; she could spare Yaz that, at least.

The thought of Yaz made Jules smile a little. From the moment they’d left the Uber, Yaz had been defiant and insisted she’d needed no help but had simultaneously accepted any and all support Jules could provide. After a brief detour to the kitchen for water, during which Jules had propped Yaz up against the counter, they’d finally made it to the bedroom in one piece. Jules had scrambled to pull out some pyjamas, chucking them onto the bed before Yaz could even start to remove her clothes. 

“I’ll be down the hall, Yaz,” she’d called through the door, hearing nothing but muffled curses in response as Yaz apparently fought with her jeans. With a sigh, Jules inspected the pyjamas in her hands and was relieved she’d at least picked out something warm enough for a night on the sofa. It hadn’t been the best night’s sleep, not least because her mind was still churning with thoughts about River, but knowing that Yaz was at least, presumably, safe in bed was enough to let her drift off. 

_River_. 

Jules reached for her phone, scanning through the notifications quickly. River hadn’t been in contact. She let the device fall back to the cushions in defeat. A wave of regret came and went. Jules could picture River’s face only too well when she’d first mentioned Yaz. She’d smiled, her face half hidden in the shadows, but it had been tinged with melancholy. There had been a moment, a precise moment, now that Jules thought about it, where she could have rescued things. But she hadn’t. 

A quiet groan emanating from her bedroom interrupted her thoughts. Coffee. That was what Jules needed and, by the sound of things, Yaz did, too. 

Only a few minutes later, Jules was steeling herself outside her own bedroom, coffee and paracetamol in hand. There was the rustle of sheets from within but she had no idea what was going to greet her once she opened the door. The one thing she did know was that Yaz was probably feeling a hundred times worse than she was, and the least she could do was make her feel better. It felt like this was an opportunity to make progress, perhaps even start afresh after all the misfires they’d had thus far. Granted, doing it while hungover was probably not the easiest way to go about it, but when else were they going to get time alone? Football was the only time they ever met on a regular basis and they didn’t even play on the same team.

“Yaz?” she called, certain she could hear her own voice waver slightly. _Why was she nervous?_ “Are you awake?”

There was a pause but Jules knew that Yaz was awake. It just seemed like the polite thing to ask before she enquired as to whether Yaz had actually made it into the pyjamas she’d left out for her.

“Are you decent?”

“Yeah.” Yaz sounded quiet, and a little uncertain.

“Mind if I come in?” Jules asked. Now or never. It was strange to feel like a guest to her own bedroom, and her questions all felt so stilted and formal that she made sure to reassure Yaz with a smile once she finally did open the door. 

A quick glance confirmed her suspicions that Yaz was terribly hungover; she looked like she wanted to crawl back under the duvet and she watched, quietly, as Jules deposited her cargo on the bedside table. 

When Yaz remained quiet, Jules broke the ice, empathising with the other woman when she tried to hide out of sheer embarrassment and perching on the end of the bed when she started to apologise profusely. Jules waved her off. Yaz was clearly feeling worse for wear and the last thing Jules wanted was for her to feel even worse. She knew first-hand how warped hangover-induced anxiety could make things feel. Besides, Yaz had no idea how her evening was meant to have panned out with River. All Jules knew was that she’d make the same decision again in a heartbeat: when people needed help, she never refused, and Yaz had definitely needed her help. And she needed her help now, to work through how she felt now that a hangover had her well and truly in its grasp. 

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Yaz asked, despondently. “I’m pretty sure I was being a dick.” 

Jules recalled Yaz saying something similar the previous evening. She shook her head, bemused as to why she wouldn’t be nice to Yaz, or to anyone for that matter. Perhaps she had a reputation of some kind that preceded her. The thought saddened her so much that when Yaz grew quiet once more, she changed the topic of conversation. There was so much she wanted to say, to ask, even - not least, are you feeling okay? But that felt a little too bold given the way that Yaz was shrinking in on herself. The clues were there in her body language. 

So, when Yaz apologised for her having to sleep on the sofa, Jules brushed it off, ignoring the crick in her neck. Apparently, it worked, because Yaz finally relaxed a little and listened to Jules’s advice to take some painkillers. 

Jules watched with dawning dread as Yaz picked up the packaging and let her gaze linger on the photo frame by the bed. 

_Oh, no._

In her hurry to leave Yaz to her own devices, Jules had completely forgotten about the photograph. It was one of the few personal items she had on display and she always put it away when River stayed over, precisely because she knew River would ask about it. They didn’t have that kind of relationship and as a general rule of thumb, Jules never talked about her time in the army, never mind the people in the photograph. 

She could practically sense the question on the tip of Yaz’s tongue and the thought of answering it honestly made her feel a little nauseous, regardless of the mild hangover. She didn’t know Yaz well enough to explain the history of that photograph but it was an image she didn’t even need to see to picture as clear as day.

It meant so much to her - evidence of happier times, with good people, before her life had irrevocably changed - that it seemed only right that they were the first faces she saw each day and the last she saw before sleep. She owed them that much. 

“When was this taken? You look so young.”

As Yaz swallowed the drugs, Jules inevitably recalled when it had been taken. The people in that picture - the ones who had been less fortunate than she, the only person still alive and breathing - had insisted on a group photograph after they’d completed their final obstacle course during training in the Brecon Beacons. The relentless Welsh rain had made the whole thing a very muddy affair but they’d embraced the shitty weather with characteristic good humour that helped Jules ignore the volume of dirty water she’d ended up ingesting. 

The clean-up afterwards had been a nightmare - upon their return to barracks, they’d spent the better part of the following day in the laundry trying to get rid of the muck from their uniforms. Afterwards, they’d toasted their success with a few too many warm beers, toasting the prospect of a day off with the same enthusiasm they did with everything else. They were a good team of people; the best. Even her own football team didn’t come quite as close to the camaraderie Jules had enjoyed with the people in her unit. She did her best to replicate it, but it was never quite the same. 

The hangover she’d had the next morning was probably similar to how Yaz was feeling now. Jules could still recall that hangover: it had been the worst she’d ever had, but she recalled it fondly because of the evening that preceded it. She’d endure that hangover again, repeatedly, just to see their faces.

“A few years ago,” she eventually replied, trying to keep her voice level. She hoped Yaz would take the hint and drop it but apparently her police training and her inquisitive nature were a lethal combination. Of all the questions she could ask next, she asked the one that hurt the most. 

“Do you still keep in touch? You look like good mates.”

Jules knew she should do better, try to talk about her friends rather than burying the evidence. 

_Burying the evidence_. Jules could vividly remember how cold it had been when they’d been buried. The formality of the service. She’d only just been released from the hospital and standing upright had been incredibly difficult, but she’d refused any assistance. The least she could do was give them the respect they deserved, and if that meant standing for the entire ceremony, she’d do it. 

Jules pushed herself to her feet now, putting some distance between herself and the conversation. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you ask too many questions?” she asked, forcing out a laugh and grimacing internally at the sound. Apparently her hint to drop the subject had been too subtle before; the least she could do was try and cushion her evasive reply but she could tell instantly that she’d reacted badly when Yaz pulled an apologetic face. She started to open drawers for the want of something to do and so that she had an excuse not to look at Yaz, or the photograph, any longer.

“Part and parcel of the job. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

The apology made Jules flinch again. Every time they talked, it went wrong. But this time she wasn’t in the mood to try and salvage it. Yaz had touched upon something she hadn’t been prepared to deal with and her response surprised her as much as it had Yaz. One day, she’d be able to talk about what happened but today was not that day. Her head was starting to pound. 

“I’m just going to shower,” she blurted, rummaging without looking and pulling out clothes at random. _Just hold it together. One simple question shouldn’t rattle you so much._

The bedroom felt claustrophobic but she couldn’t just kick Yaz out. “Do you need a lift home?”

Yaz got to her feet, stumbling only slightly and talking, but all Jules could hear was that she’d make her own way home. That was all she needed to know before she dipped her head in acknowledgment and escaped to the en suite, shutting the door and leaning against it the moment she had some privacy. Her breaths were shaky and she dropped the clothes to the floor. No doubt she’d have to pick out some different ones, anyway, because she was almost certain she’d just picked up two jumpers and nothing else. All she had to do was hold it together and keep up appearances until Yaz left, so she turned the shower on, letting the water run so hot that the bathroom steamed up within minutes. It felt hard to breathe but she endured it, waiting for the telltale sound of the front door closing.

When it came, she let the tears follow. For every step forward, she took two steps back.

* * *

_2 weeks later_

“Jesus, Jules. What happened to you? You look like a ghost.”

“Night shifts,” Jules muttered, relieved when Donna picked up on her mood. 

“You okay to play?” Donna asked instead, turning briefly to ask the other players to quieten down. The bus was already half full and Jules was eyeing up a quiet seat near the back. She’d caught a few hours but her schedule was all over the place after a week of nights; what hadn’t helped was her discovery that another team was going to be joining them in Leeds for their day of friendly matches. Their captain was someone that Jules knew only too well, and Missy was anything but friendly. 

They hadn’t seen each other in several months, ever since Missy had left Sheffield with her proverbial tail between her legs. Her return did not bode well - Jules had thought she’d gone for good - and her decision to join the women’s football league with a new team midway through the season was not only unprecedented, but a bad sign. _What was she playing at?_ Jules had hoped she’d never have to see her again after what had happened, but these days everything seemed to haunt her. It was surely only a matter of time before they crossed paths and Jules was dreading it because she had a sinking suspicion that Missy had joined the league to force a confrontation.

Thanks to a glass of medicinal whiskey, she had finally managed to drop off at 2am, but the alarm had woken her only four hours later. Thankfully, Jules was good at grabbing sleep on the move and she planned to do just that on the bus ride to Leeds. She pushed thoughts of Missy to one side. She’d have to cross that bridge when she came to it, but today was a chance to see what she was up to. She could already imagine that whatever Missy’s tactics were they’d be based more on intimidation than true skill. For a start, she was certain that Missy was new to the sport and had only chosen it because Jules played.

She slid into the empty seat with relief, keeping an eye on who was filtering onto the bus. Although she could understand Graham’s logic of sharing transport with Bill’s team, she wasn’t hugely enthusiastic about the idea because although the drive was a short one, it was entirely likely that she’d see Yaz. They hadn’t seen one another since Jules had essentially asked her to leave the flat that hungover morning and a couple of clashing shifts meant that she hadn’t even seen Yaz in days. 

Mornings as mentally tiring as this one called for an escape, or at least as close to one as she could manage given that she was trapped on a bus for the next hour. Jules fished out her earphones, huffing as they stubbornly refused to untangle themselves. She really needed to get a better pair - she could afford to - but as appealing as the wireless ones were, Jules knew she’d lose them. Anyway, the ones she had did the trick and she popped them in her ears, grateful when the sound of upbeat music helped to drown out the hubbub on the bus. It had muted somewhat, she was relieved to note, but when she looked up to see Yaz standing in the aisle by her row, she realised that the racket had quietened down because everybody else on the bus seemed to be watching them. 

Unsettled, she tugged the cables and the earphones fell to her lap. She shoved her phone into her pocket when it became apparent that she was going to have company, after all. The last thing she wanted to be was rude.

“Mind if I sit here?” Yaz asked, tentatively. 

“Oh, sorry, Yaz. You need a seat?” Jules patted the space next to her for emphasis, even though it was obvious that Yaz did indeed need a seat and had nowhere else to sit. Jules resisted the urge to scan the rest of the bus. She was sure there were other vacant seats, so why had Yaz chosen to sit next to her?

It didn’t take long for her mind to wander. No longer occupied with thoughts of Missy, or River, instead Jules was now hyper-aware of how closely they were sitting. When she cast a sideways glance she was disarmed by how put together Yaz looked for such an early hour of the morning. The last time she’d seen Yaz she’d been very hungover but this morning, make-up free and fresh from sleep, Jules realised just how pretty she was. She wasn’t sure how she’d not seen it before. Perhaps because they were always doing something else - running after a ball, that first brief glimpse at work, or hungover and feeling delicate after a tiring night out - but Jules realised she’d never seen Yaz just being herself. 

When Yaz glanced down at where their legs touched, Jules realised she was bouncing her leg. Again. She hadn’t even noticed she was doing it but it was a nervous habit she thought she’d managed to shake.

“Not very good at sitting still for long,” she said, although the excuse sounded weak. She placed her hand on her knee to stop brushing against Yaz quite so much but now she was simply aware of the solid warmth of Yaz’s thigh pressed against her own.

“And I’m not very good in the back seat.” Jules was alarmed to see that Yaz was looking a little green around the gills and instantly got to her feet. But she timed the move poorly and Yaz fell into her as Graham essentially threw them around a corner, prompting a cheer from the other passengers. Jules could feel her face glowing with embarrassment but only once Yaz was safely settled did Jules glance up to the front; she caught a glimpse of Graham watching them in the rear-view mirror, then Bill turned to tell them to sit down before Graham hit a speed bump.

As Jules sank back into her seat she wondered if he’d driven that way deliberately and said as much under her breath. The atmosphere on the bus was well and truly odd but she relaxed when the others started to talk amongst themselves, entertainment over now that she and Yaz had sat down again. 

Jules had a strange feeling that she’d been left out of the loop and she vowed to get to the bottom of it, but her priority was to make the next hour as smooth as possible. When Yaz struck up a conversation about the t-shirt Jules had lent her, she sensed an opportunity to put them both at ease. She also couldn’t believe that Yaz hadn’t heard of the Wombats. In her enthusiasm to enlighten her seatmate, Jules forgot about any awkwardness between them; she was excited to introduce Yaz to some of her favourite music. 

When Yaz struggled with untangling her earphones, Jules couldn’t resist poking fun at her and was delighted to see Yaz smile enough that dimples appeared. Jules wondered if she could make it happen again. She hit play on one of her favourite songs and waited.

Music was one of life’s simplest pleasures and when Jules saw Yaz start to smile, a genuine smile in response to the song she’d chosen, she felt at ease for the first time in a while. It felt like a win. Listening to music together was nice and it also meant that they didn’t need to talk. An unspoken agreement had been reached, and she could sense Yaz relax beside her. Jules’s choice of music would do the talking for her. 

She stretched out her legs, careful not to nudge Yaz’s bag, and let the music take her away. 

* * *

The first thing Jules was aware of was that her neck was at an awkward enough angle to hurt. The next was that whatever her cheek was resting on was moving, rhythmically, up and down. Slow and steady. 

There was the unmistakable shutter sound of a photograph being taken and Jules lifted her head in alarm, completely confused. She could just about hear tinny music playing out of the earphone in her lap. Instead of music, she was instead confronted with the sounds of muffled giggles and the noise of the engine. She’d fallen asleep.

It took Jules a little longer than normal to shake the drowsiness and she wondered how long she’d been asleep. It felt like it had been no time and also far too long; surely they should have been in Leeds by now? 

Clara Oswald popped her head up over the seat in front as if she’d sensed her waking up. 

“You’re awake! I thought about waking you up, but it looked like you both needed it.”

Clara smirked, dimples popping, and Jules frowned. For someone who looked so angelic, Clara was clearly hinting at something less than innocent. 

Jules looked to her right. Yaz was fast asleep next to her. Judging by the damp patch on her hoodie, Jules had not only fallen asleep, she’d fallen asleep on Yaz and then dribbled on her. _Brilliant_. 

“Where are we?” she asked, still groggy with sleep. 

“About ten minutes away. Traffic was terrible.”

Jules was still amazed that she’d managed to fall asleep so close to someone else. It was a rare occurrence.

“Should probably wake Yaz, though,” Clara suggested, eyebrow raised. Jules stalled at the prospect.

She was saved by Donna of all people, although when Jules saw what she was holding aloft she realised what had woken her. Donna grinned as she held the phone just out of reach, but close enough for Jules to see that she had indeed fallen asleep on Yaz and not only that, but they had somehow snuggled up together. Jules briefly wondered who’d passed out first. Given the way she was leaning into Yaz, she had to imagine it had been her. But Yaz hadn’t moved away. Jules didn’t fail to notice how closely she’d wrapped an arm around Yaz’s waist. She got to her feet, reaching for the phone.

Although the picture was innocent enough, their proximity spoke volumes. It immediately suggested that she and Yaz were more intimately acquainted than they actually were. Still, Jules couldn’t ignore the little flutter she felt when she saw how relaxed they looked together. How _good_ they looked together. It was a passing moment but the response was visceral and Jules could do nothing to shield herself from it.

Behind her, Jules could hear Clara rousing Yaz, but her attention was otherwise occupied. She needed to get hold of the photograph before it was shared. There was no way that Bill could see it and, seconds later, Jules realised she didn’t want Yaz to see it either. She couldn’t quite put her finger on why that was; perhaps because it was evidence of a more vulnerable side that she wasn’t sure she wanted to share. That there was photographic evidence just added insult to injury.

“How much will you pay me?” Donna teased, waving her phone just out of reach. 

“If you don’t give that over, you’ll be subbed for the next three games,” Jules grumbled, and Donna laughed at the empty threat. She knew she was one of the best players on the team. 

“Just...give it,” Jules said, giving up on threats for a more direct option. But Donna simply laughed again and then rapidly pocketed her phone when her gaze drifted over Jules’s shoulder. By the sounds of it, Yaz was now awake and Jules didn’t want to let on what had happened.

“Ugh. Fine,” she capitulated. “That better not see the light of day, though.” The bus finally slowed to a stop and Graham turned off the engine.

A low groan made her turn to confirm that Yaz had, indeed, woken up and was stretching like a cat after a prolonged nap. She tried to ignore the languid motion and the flash of skin it revealed as Yaz woke up, her hoodie rising up over her stomach as she raised her arms to work out the kinks. 

“Just stretching,” Yaz yawned, still dopey, as if she needed to explain what she was doing.

She looked so soft with sleep that Jules forgot about the picture. The real version was far more captivating. 

“Sounded pretty satisfying,” she agreed. Judging by Yaz’s sleepy demeanour, Jules reckoned she’d got away with it - Yaz didn’t seem to realise that they’d fallen asleep on one another. Yet. It was only a matter of time before someone told her and Jules wanted to make herself scarce before things potentially got awkward again.

Jules bent to retrieve Yaz’s bag before stretching up to get her own. A hissed conversation between Clara and Yaz almost threw her off but she left before Yaz could discover just what had happened. 

* * *

In the end, it didn’t take long for her to find Missy. Or, rather, for Missy to find her. Her team was even later to arrive so Jules was able to watch a good chunk of their game and surmised that her first thoughts had been correct: their technique was non-existent and relied mainly on dubious tackles and intimidation, passed off as inexperience. Jules froze when Missy glanced over to lock eyes with her, apparently unsurprised to see Jules watching. Unfortunately, the whistle blew only a few seconds later, which didn’t give Jules much time to move away as Missy zeroed in. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” Missy spoke, not even out of breath. Her hair was crazy, waves tied up in a manic bun, but Jules knew it normally looked much the same even when she wasn’t running around gunning for peoples’ ankles. Jules hadn’t heard her voice in a long time but the moment she heard Missy speak, she was cast back to the last time they’d spoken after the tribunal. She crossed her arms, trying to hide her discomfort.

“Didn't know you played,” she said tersely. Jules’s eye was drawn by movement down the pitch; Bill and her team were heading back to the bus, and Jules knew she needed to leave, too. But she couldn’t quite; Missy had pinned her in place with that trademark glacial stare. Jules tried not to flinch at the intensity of her expression.

“Oh I'm interested in whatever you're interested in, dearie.” The words might have been harmless enough but Jules knew the underlying intent and that changed their meaning entirely.

“And whoever you're interested in,” Missy added slyly, her eyes flicking over to the other team. Jules wondered if she was referring to Bill. No doubt she’d done her homework but Jules hoped that her information was out of date because knowledge was power and Missy was very good at twisting facts; the least she could hope for was that her insider knowledge was based on shaky foundations. But it was very hard to keep things secret, Jules had discovered, and the thought of Missy digging around gave her a chill. She thought she’d managed to escape this woman and yet here she was, back in town and bold as brass.

“Stay out of my business,” Jules warned, her voice cold. No matter what had happened between them, she didn’t want Missy going anywhere near Bill. Or anyone on her team, for that matter. It was bad enough that Missy was no doubt out to get some kind of revenge for what had happened between them, but Jules couldn’t bear the thought of her targeting someone external to the situation. 

“So she's your business, is she?” Missy smirked, looking sideways again. Jules didn’t know who she was looking at and Missy’s words were vague enough that she might not even be talking about a particular person - perhaps she was just fishing - but Jules realised she’d chosen her words poorly and felt her hands clench in frustration. She was out of practice at dealing with Missy. She’d need to be more careful in future. 

“I mean it. Stay away. You want to come for me? Come for me. But leave everyone else out of this.”

Before Missy could reply, Jules turned her back. She could feel tension thrumming through her body but she made a conscious effort to keep her head held high as she walked away. She couldn’t let Missy know just how much her reappearance had affected her. All she did know was that she needed to keep things under wraps and not show any chinks in her armour because Missy would be ruthless in her quest to exploit them.


	25. Donna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up that this gets a little smutty towards the end!

It was match day and Jules was buzzing, more than eager to get going and win their game. She’d set thirteen different alarms to make sure she made it to the pitch early, and her tactic paid off when she’d been one of the first people to arrive out of the four teams playing that morning. She made her way inside to the changing rooms, eager to get a head start before the rest of her team arrived. 

To her immense surprise, Donna was already inside. She wasn’t much of a morning person and Jules had only expected to see her five minutes before the warm-up, trademark breakfast croissant in hand, so she did a double take when she saw Donna already dressed in her kit and ready to go. 

Donna raised an appraising eyebrow as Jules entered. 

“Surprised?” she asked smugly, clearly pleased to catch Jules off guard. 

“You could say that,” Jules admitted. She’d hoped for at least ten minutes of peace and quiet to collect her thoughts before the game but judging by the look on Donna’s face, she wasn’t going to get that. She unzipped her kit bag with a sigh, feeling Donna watch her. 

“Come on then, Noble. Out with it.” Jules shrugged off her hoodie and felt goosebumps prickle up her exposed arms. It was slightly unnerving to be scrutinised by a silent Donna Noble. Jules could only imagine what she was about to come out with.

“What was that all about at practice the other day?” 

“What do you mean?” Jules was genuinely confused as she cast her mind back. “The way you stole the closest parking space, or…”

Donna put her hands on her hips and Jules knew she’d guessed wrong.

“You know what I mean.” 

Jules was starting to become a little frustrated by Donna’s vague references.

“No I really don't, Noble. Spell it out for me ‘cos I haven't got all day.” Jules tugged down her tracksuit bottoms and swapped them for some shorts, then opted to cover her legs again when she realised just how cold the room was. They had a bit of time until they were even needed on the pitch and apparently Donna was keen to talk, first.

“You and Yaz.”

The mention of Yaz threw Jules for a loop. Donna seemed to be on a roll and taking complete pleasure in it. 

“At training the other day. You two were in the zone. It was like you’d forgotten where you were. Or that there were other people around."

Jules shrugged but she knew what Donna was getting at. Their teams had recently trained together when Ryan had been busy and Graham had partnered Jules with Yaz, meaning that they had not only competed over who could do the most sit-ups, but they’d also been sent to run laps around the pitch due to their pigheadedness. That spark that Jules had felt before had returned with a vengeance, fuelled by adrenaline and competitiveness. 

And then Yaz had taken a tumble. Jules still remembered, vividly, just how close they’d been. She’d ended up asking Yaz what she did for a living so that she could focus on assessing her injury; besides, it would have been a little strange for her to admit that she already knew the answer, having already seen Yaz at the hospital. Then she’d walked Yaz back to the sidelines, wary of Bill watching them but finding that she didn’t care when she heard Yaz laughing at her bad jokes, their arms wrapped around one another for support. In the end, she’d been reluctant to let go.

“So what?” Jules knew she sounded truculent but she didn’t much enjoy Donna's prying questions. But she also knew this was what Donna did best and she realised, in retrospect, that she had probably been gearing up to ask this for a while if she’d gone to the effort of actually cornering Jules before a big game, when she couldn’t escape.

“You know exactly what. The way you look at each other like you’re the only people in the room. You took her home that night after the social, didn't you? I saw you together outside.”

Jules huffed as she tugged her boots out. Donna’s memory was far too good.

“Nothing's going on. I swear, nothing is going on and nothing will, either.” She fixed Donna with a glare. It pained Jules to say it, but it was the truth, and she hoped it would end the conversation. But Donna sighed impatiently. Apparently, her blunt answer wasn’t enough to get Jules off the hook.

“Did you or did you not take her home, Jules?”

“What are you, my mother?” Jules scoffed, but when she saw Donna’s eyes widen she realised she’d need to explain herself or she’d assume something had happened when it hadn’t. 

“I took her home to crash. That's all! She was drunk and left on her own. I wanted to make sure she got home safe.” Jules wondered why she was having to convince Donna of the truth but her efforts were apparently fruitless. It was starting to get frustrating.

“And then the bus? What was that about? You looked pretty chummy.”

Jules could feel her cheeks burning and she bent over to pull on her socks, hoping she could hide the blood rushing to them. After much cajoling she’d eventually managed to get Donna to delete the photo on her phone, but only after she’d sent herself a copy. Apparently that hadn’t gone unnoticed. At least Donna had no idea how many times she’d looked at it since.

“You know I was tired, Noble. I’d just come off nights. It was early! Those buses are so small, and anyway, it wasn’t like there were any seats left to spread out. They were all taken.”

Donna seemed to sense her exasperation because she eased up at long last.

“Did you ever think that was deliberate, Jules?”

“How do you mean?” Jules frowned, genuinely confused. She'd been so tired that morning that she'd not really been paying attention, and then she'd literally fallen asleep on Yaz.

Donna softened, but Jules knew she wasn't done.

“That others might have had a helping hand in getting you two just to sit together? I know I'm not the only one who sees it.”

Jules shook her head. Donna’s line of thought was proving to be infuriating: she was more observant than Jules had given her credit for, but her assumptions were all wrong.

"Face it, Jules. It's obvious."

Secretly, Jules was shocked. She hadn't dared hope that Yaz might actually be interested, especially after all the awkwardness they’d endured during their first interactions. They were only just about managing a normal level of friendliness now. Even so, the prospect of Bill was always lingering on the horizon and Jules was having to make a more conscious effort to shelve her own feelings. 

"If I've not noticed, it's not,” she denied.

Donna laughed as she unzipped her kit bag, removing her outer layers. Jules realised they’d probably been talking for long enough that they needed to head out, although there was no sign of anyone else. She removed her t-shirt, rummaging for her kit. She’d always thought it was bad luck to wear her kit to a game; as a result, she’d always changed just beforehand.

“No offence, mate, but you’re not always the most observant person.”

“Oi, I will take offence at that, thank you very much,” Jules replied, hurt. Donna was deliberately pushing her buttons.

Donna sighed, switching tactics. 

“Be honest with me for a sec. You must have noticed something’s going on?”

Donna really wasn’t dropping the subject but despite her irritation, Jules was intrigued. Had she missed something? She'd been a little distracted recently, what with everything that had happened with Bill and River and Missy. She'd been trying to keep Yaz at arm's length while she sorted herself out.

“I don’t know what you mean.” 

But Donna wouldn't let the subject drop and Jules knew she could be like a dog with a bone when she got going on something. 

While Donna enlightened her, Jules's first instinct was to protest. But she hesitated. As Donna droned on, Jules let herself consider the question that Donna was clearly dying to ask: did she like Yaz? Jules let herself daydream a little. She hadn't indulged because it seemed like she'd get too attached to the idea.

“I get it. I do. What happened before was tough."

The reference to Bill pulled Jules from her daydream. Donna ploughed on. 

"I’ve been there myself. Except, well, with a bloke cos…”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Jules interrupted, remembering all too well the drama that accompanied Donna’s last break-up. The other woman seemed to get lost in her own memories for a second, before making a concerted effort to rejoin the conversation.

“Anyway, what was I saying? Yeah. That’s it. You’ve got to look at what’s right in front of you. Open those eyes of yours and look at something that isn’t the football. You see her often enough as it is but all I’m saying is...just look at her. Properly. The rest of us, we’ve all seen it. Kind of ironic that you don’t, really, given how often you bump heads.”

Before Jules could finally say her piece, they were interrupted by another voice entirely. It was close, and it was Bill's, drifting through the open doorway. Jules cursed. No doubt their voices had carried down the corridor. Her hearing was normally far better but Donna had completely distracted her with thoughts of Yaz. This was what happened when she lost her focus and Jules realised that she was completely flustered. By the sounds of it, Yaz was, too.

“Where- Yaz, where are you going? Changing rooms are ‘round the corner.”

Jules held her breath, making panicked eye contact with Donna. She looked as anxious as Jules felt, but it was so unusual to see Donna look like a deer in the headlights that Jules almost burst into nervous laughter. It was like they were teenagers who had been caught gossiping at school. 

Still, Jules was mortified that Bill and Yaz might have overheard them and she scrambled, trying to piece together the last bits of their conversation. Had they named anyone? She hoped not, but she had a horrible feeling that it was obvious who they’d been discussing. In a panic, she removed her tracksuit bottoms - she suddenly felt very warm - which meant she was half naked when Yaz and Bill actually entered the room. She really hadn’t thought that through and she saw Yaz deliberately avert her eyes. Was that because she’d overheard them or because she didn’t want to stare?

Jules hurried to finish dressing herself. She felt exposed and although she was normally comfortable being undressed around other women - she looked after her body, after all, and spent a lot of time in changing rooms - she felt more than a little self-conscious around Yaz this morning. 

Bill was still chatting away but Jules could almost pinpoint the moment her guard had gone up. Eventually, Bill turned to address them but her tone was more brittle than usual.

“Good luck today, guys. Not that you’ll need it, I’m sure. Maybe when all this is said and done, we could play bubble football."

“Bubble football? What’s that?” Donna asked, confused. 

“It’s when you play a game strapped into a giant inflatable ball,” Jules said as she fixed her shin guards in place. Finally, other players had started to trickle in and Jules wondered if they’d been hanging back while she and Donna talked. Still, despite the increase in background noise, there was a definite tension in the room and it centred on the four of them. Or rather, the three of them; Donna just happened to be guilty by association.

“Yeah. That’s the one. Means you two can smack into each other as much as you like and not hurt yourselves,” Bill said, pointing between Jules and Yaz.

Jules glanced over to see a look of clear discomfort pass over Yaz’s face and she knew it was high time she tried to fix the situation. She didn’t want Yaz to feel uncomfortable and apparently today was the day for difficult conversations. Still, Jules was a little disappointed; she thought they’d turned a corner, but it was obvious that Bill was still not happy.

“Alright, Bill. Can we have a word?”

Bill seemed surprised by the suggestion but her response was a little on the nose for simple banter. 

“You’ve had enough words with me. They’re usually too little, too late.”

Jules tried not to flinch but she wasn’t expecting such a low blow. The conversation they were about to have was long overdue and she’d clearly put it off for too long. Perhaps Bill had a point.

“Alright. I deserve that, Bill. But this isn’t about me.”

Jules made a concerted effort to keep her gaze on Bill but she could sense Yaz in her peripheral vision, glancing between them. Donna was as quiet as a mouse. Even the others in the room seemed to stop what they were doing. 

After a long moment, Bill nodded, and Jules padded out of the room in her socks, relieved that they could at least have some privacy. She found an empty room down the hall and shut the door behind them, taking a calming breath. Of all the things she’d been expecting to do today, having this conversation wasn’t even on the list. 

“We’ve had enough witnesses to everything that’s happened between us, Bill,” she explained, and Bill sighed heavily. 

“Yeah, you’re right," she admitted. "But now you have me all alone. What did you want to say?”

There were so many ways to answer that question and Jules didn't know where to start. But Bill seemed intrigued to hear what she had to say, hopeful, even, and Jules realised that to start healing the rift she probably needed to at least apologise. Although she didn't think she was entirely to blame for what happened between them - after all, Bill had chosen to end it - Jules knew her behaviour was what pushed her away. She also knew that she needed to learn from the experience and at least patch things up with someone she'd hurt if she was to stand any hope of not doing it again. She wondered, briefly, if she might need to have a similar conversation with River at some point. 

Jules took a deep breath. The timing for this conversation had just never been right but apparently it never would be and now was as good a time as any. They certainly couldn't keep going as they were, judging by the way Bill was holding herself. She seemed tense and upset.

"I'm sorry, Bill. I don't think I've said it properly and I really am sorry. You deserved better."

Bill shook her head.

"No, I deserved a chance."

Jules sucked air over her teeth. The sentiment stung and the gloves were clearly off. As unpleasant as the conversation was, Jules knew she had to grit her teeth and bear it if they were to stand a proper chance of fixing things.

"Ouch." Jules tried to laugh it off but Bill seemed to regret the words almost as soon as she'd said them. That was more like the Bill that Jules knew; this bitter version was very out of character and Jules felt guilty that she was partly to blame.

"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I guess I'm still a bit upset about it," Bill admitted, rubbing the back of her neck in a gesture that showed just how uncomfortable she was.

The admission cast new light on Bill's behaviour and despite everything that had happened between them, Jules's heart still went out to her. She tried to find a silver lining. 

"I understand. But...you're still seeing Amy, right?"

Bill ducked her head and Jules was pleased to see that she was smiling a little, at least. 

"Yeah."

"Things going ok?" Jules was genuinely interested because Bill's relationship hadn't got off to the most auspicious of starts, coming as it did on the tail end of their disastrous break-up. A break-up that was only now being fully resolved, it seemed.

Bill sighed. "I think so. At first, I thought I'd maybe gone about things the wrong way. After what happened...you know…"

Bill trailed off and Jules nodded. She didn't need for it to be spelled out. Part of the reason Bill had started seeing Amy was to make a point and hurt Jules.

"I probably should have drowned my sorrows instead but what do you know? It turns out she's good for me."

The implication was obvious. 

"You dodged a bullet," Jules said, after a long moment.

Bill's face crumpled slightly when she realised how Jules had taken her words.

"Don't say that," she chided. "Look, I know I've not dealt with this very well, and I want to do better at this. I do."

Jules shrugged.

"You were looking after yourself. I should probably take notes." She tried a smile but it felt a little forced and Bill picked up on it. Although she had been a bit prickly of late, one of Bill's best features was how much she cared. Her big heart was what had drawn Jules to her in the first place. 

"Jules? What do you mean?"

Bill's tone had softened considerably but Jules knew they were broaching tricky territory. She didn't want to talk about how she felt; she just wanted to fix things between them. If she started to open up then she had very little idea how things would go and she didn't want or deserve Bill's sympathy.

"Long story.”

Bill seemed disappointed that Jules wasn’t willing to open up but Jules continued, regardless. “Anyway, I think it’s about time we turned over a new leaf, don't you think? What happened between us is between us. I don’t think it's fair to drag other people into this."

"For what it’s worth, I’ve never really told anyone what happened. At least, not sober," Bill amended, pulling an apologetic face. 

"I appreciate that. But really, I think it’s spreading and I think it’s affecting others." Jules thought of the tension in the locker room they'd just left.

"Like who? Yaz?"

Jules hesitated. She hadn't expected Bill to go there, even though that was where her own thoughts were drifting.

"I was talking about Amy," she bluffed.

"Maybe…" Bill drawled, and Jules knew she could see through her. "But I think it's more than that, isn't it?"

"I do think Yaz is getting dragged into this, yes. But it’s not just her, it's everyone on our teams. I don’t want our relationship issues aired in front of everyone. What happened just now...I don't really want it to happen again."

Bill inspected her trainers, and Jules could tell that she was embarrassed by her behaviour. She hadn't meant to call her out on it but the tension was uncomfortable to say the least and Jules had been growing tired of it. Now was her chance to push them forwards.

"Can we try to move past that? I’m pretty sure Amy wouldn’t like to hear about it, either."

Bill sighed. 

"You’re right. I’ll try not to."

"That’s all I’m asking."

"And all I’m asking is that you don’t hurt my friend. Ok?"

Jules swallowed hard at the insinuation. Was Bill giving her a green light? 

"Ok."

* * *

Jules left that room with a weight lifted from her shoulders. It felt like she was floating and when she went on to score the winning goal in their game she literally was, lifted into the air by her team in celebration.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Yaz watching.

"Alright, alright! Enough, put me down already or you'll hurt yourselves. Or drop me."

The moment she was back on solid ground, Jules flashed Yaz a smile. She couldn't resist, high as she was on endorphins. Her mood was boosted even more when Yaz returned it a split second later. Despite the fact that her own team were out of the league - Jules could see how down in the dumps her team-mates looked - Yaz looked genuinely happy for Jules.

The realisation moved her forwards and she made straight for Yaz, still catching her breath.

But her joy was short-lived when Yaz declined her offer to join in with the celebrations. The conflict that played out across Yaz's face was confusing until Jules spied Bill coming towards them and Yaz made her excuses to leave. 

Perhaps Yaz was just as conflicted as Jules felt about Bill. But that didn't mean much of anything; perhaps she was just being a loyal friend. Jules deflated, irked that perhaps she hadn't made as much progress as she'd hoped and saddened that perhaps Yaz didn't think of her in quite the same way. It was like she'd opened a can of worms and now her own feelings were starting to cascade, out of control, whereas Yaz still managed to keep hers hidden. She was hard to read sometimes, and it was both maddening and addictive. Jules wanted to get to the bottom of it all, to discover just what Yaz was thinking. Now that Yaz's team was out of the league, their chances to interact would be even more limited.

In a last-ditch attempt to spend time with Yaz, Jules tried one final plea. 

"Okay. Another time, maybe?"

_Was she suggesting a date?_

Yaz's response was disappointing.

"Maybe."

Jules had to admit defeat. She could hear her team calling for her. Their time together was rapidly drawing to a close.

“You know, it’s okay for us to be friends, Yaz. Whatever anyone else might say.”

Then she turned and left before she could say too much.

The night that followed stretched on well into the small hours of the next morning and Jules regretted doing quite so many shots when she woke up with a hell of a hangover. She knew Donna was largely to blame for the drinking games they'd played, although she'd been all too keen to partake and drown her sorrows under the guise of celebrating their win.

Jules reached for her phone; a quick glance confirmed that she hadn't drunkenly messaged River, which was something, at least.

But the foggy head refused to clear even after a cool shower and three mugs of coffee. Even worse, Jules kept replaying her conversation with Yaz over and over again. A quick glance out of the window confirmed that the weather reflected her mood and, seconds later, Jules reached for her boots and her car keys. She knew what would make her feel better. 

Seeing Yaz at the pitch was a surprise. Jules had been there for at least half an hour, scoring goal after goal on an endless loop and trying to get out of her own head. She could feel herself yearning and she knew it wouldn't end well if she couldn't at least kick a hundred balls hard and fast, in an attempt to exorcise herself of the thoughts that were plaguing her. 

But the fact that Yaz just happened to turn up while she was there suggested that someone was having a laugh at her expense. Just when she thought she'd managed to escape her thoughts, the subject of them manifested before her very eyes. Jules wondered how long Yaz had been watching her and returned Yaz's wave, before returning to the balls at her feet. She could control them a hell of a lot better than she could control what was going on with her thoughts. Penalties were her zen moment.

Besides, they were playing Missy next and Jules really couldn't afford to lose her focus now. But when she saw Yaz's car retreating she realised she'd completely lost any desire to practice; by then, she was soaked through and in need of another, warmer, shower. 

Thankfully, the hangover had gone by the time she returned home, soaking wet. But exhaustion had sunk in and her bed looked so appealing that Jules caved to her need for sleep and crawled between the sheets, warm from the shower. They were cool and her legs were so tired that she knew it wouldn’t take long to drift off, except…

Her brain simply wouldn’t switch off.

Jules tossed and turned for the best part of an hour, frustrated beyond belief. Her body was practically humming with a weird energy that her usual tactics had failed to dispel. At times like this she would sometimes call River, but it wouldn’t be right. Not when her thoughts were full of Yaz. 

A thought occurred to her, then.

Jules let her fingers lazily drift downwards, skipping over her chest and heading straight between her legs with almost clinical efficiency. She was surprised to find she was wet but then, really, it wasn't much of a surprise at all because she had been thinking of Yaz for most of the day. If she had been in any more denial about her feelings towards Yaz the evidence coating her fingertips would have convinced her otherwise, but Jules didn't need convincing. Not anymore. She circled her clit lightly, shocked to feel how sensitive she was; it wasn't going to take long and Jules let her mind wander, slipping into a rhythm that never failed. 

She moaned aloud when she imagined it was Yaz touching her. It was startling to realise how rapidly she was hurtling towards the edge but once the image materialised in her mind it was hard to shift and it felt too good to stop. Although the thought had taken her by surprise at first, Jules found she adjusted quickly; too quickly for it to have been a truly novel concept. Had she really been thinking of Yaz like this the entire time? As someone she wanted like this?

Jules could feel her fingers moving faster and faster of their own accord, practically a blur as she got herself off to the thought of Yaz making her come. She climaxed with a cry, Yaz's on her mind if not her lips as she imagined her working her through it. 

Jules slumped back to the mattress, breathless. She imagined that Yaz was with her but she knew she'd have to open her eyes to reality before too long and tried not to be disappointed to find that she was, in fact, alone in bed. Jules spread out across the sheets - the only benefit of having a double bed to herself - and, heart still thundering in her chest, she swore.


	26. A&E

When the whistle blew at half time, Jules was actually relieved to stop playing. Her team had made it through the first half goal-less but unscathed, and that was all she could ask for. From the moment the match had started, Missy and her team had been on a mission to make things difficult and for the first time in a while, Jules had truly struggled to enjoy herself while playing a game of football. Missy had hounded Jules, glued to her side for every pass, and her frustration had steadily been mounting. 

Jules took a drink and scanned her team, trying to assess the mood. They looked exhausted, no doubt due to the tactics Missy’s team were deploying. It wasn’t an effective way to actually play a game of football and it was a minor miracle that their terrible tackles hadn’t injured anyone just yet. Donna had come closest when a stray elbow had grazed her cheek; luckily, Rory, the referee, had finally seen sense and sent the player off. But being a player short didn’t seem to hinder Missy’s team; if anything, it seemed to make them even more determined than ever to play dirty. 

“Alright,” Jules breathed, and the others gathered in a huddle, apparently keen to listen. She had given them an extra morale boost before the game and Jules knew she needed to boost it even more, now that they knew what they were up against. She made sure to single out each and every player and commend them on how they’d been playing. Graham nodded beside her, chipping in every now and again, aware that they didn’t need a strategy meeting but a simple message of support. The way things were going it was unlikely that either team would even score, so their main strategy would be to avoid injury. Graham muttered something unhelpful about Rory but Jules knew that even with a more capable referee, going up against Missy would always be unpleasant. 

“And last but not least, be careful out there,” she finished. It was hard to believe the break was already over but when she saw the other team traipsing back out to the other side of the pitch, she realised it was crunch time. 

“We just need to make it through the second half and then I’m buying you all a drink, later.”

That did the trick, Jules was pleased to note, as her players confirmed they would hold her up to that. 

“If you do that every time you play against this team you’ll end up broke,” Graham commented. 

“Whatever works,” Jules replied, and she meant it. She took her team’s happiness very seriously. She was their captain and the least she could do was get them through a challenging match. If that meant she had to bribe them with a pint, she’d do it. She also felt partly responsible for the weird atmosphere. After all, it was Jules who Missy had a problem with; by default, Jules’s team were being dragged into things that they had no idea about. Jules seriously hoped she could keep it that way but she had a horrible feeling that Missy was just sussing her out. No doubt a new tactic would follow.

Jules carelessly dropped her bottle back to the ground and made her way over to the halfway line but seconds later she could sense a presence. Without even turning she knew it was Missy, and she wondered where she’d even come from. It wouldn’t surprise her if Missy had been waiting for a moment alone.

“You think you can get away from me by changing hospitals but it isn’t that simple, dear.”

Jules resisted the urge to turn around. The words and the sentiment behind them rattled her, but she knew Missy could read her too well and the last thing she wanted was to give Missy an advantage by showing her face. 

“You’re obsessed,” she said instead, barely glancing behind her. She hoped to pass it off as a dismissive comment, to hide how unsettled she was by the whole thing, but Missy simply scoffed. Jules jogged ahead, keen to put some distance between them. No doubt Missy would be shadowing her again within seconds, but Jules wanted a moment to gather herself. 

Rory seemed a little apprehensive when he saw them approach and Jules felt sorry for him when he fumbled with his notebook, almost dropping it when Missy laughed at him. She hoped he wouldn’t need to use it but when the whistle blew and Missy almost sent her flying with a stray kick and a false apology, she realised they might not be so lucky. 

It took all of her concentration to play. Jules hadn’t been so challenged in years and, in a way, she thrived on it. She just wished it wasn’t Missy putting up such a challenge; she much preferred playing against Yaz. At least Yaz wasn't out to do actual damage. 

Jules shook her head. She needed to focus, not think of Yaz, or Missy. She had to tune them out entirely and just concentrate on her team, and, if possible, try and score a goal. The thought of scoring re-energised her and while she geared up for the next throw-in, Jules eyed the ball and the ball alone. She could trust her senses to account for her surroundings; she could hear Missy beside her, a constant presence, breathing harder than usual. 

It helped to know that Missy was finding this as tough as she was. 

Jules took several deep breaths as she waited for the ball to be thrown in. Adrenaline was coursing through her limbs, and she could feel her heart thudding dully within the confines of her ribs, keeping her legs warm. It was cold out but Jules was sweating. Missy had relentlessly chased her all over the pitch. 

Jules couldn’t help but think of the last time she’d been waiting for a throw-in, and what had happened afterwards. She and Yaz had smacked into one another and although neither of them had come out unscathed, it made Jules smile a little to remember how they’d acted around each other in the aftermath. Before she realised what was happening, the ball was airborne and she started to jump on instinct, gaze fixed on the ball's trajectory. But the upward motion was instantly derailed by two sudden, successive manoeuvres that sent her downwards on a far sharper and more violent path than she was anticipating. 

The move was sudden that the collision with the ground took a split second to register; she didn’t even have time to put her hands out in front of her. Moments later a sharp, hot pain spread across her chest, making the sudden stab across her shin feel like a gentle tickle. Someone had tripped her or shoved her or both, but right now Jules could barely compute the overlapping signals of pain that her body was screaming with.

“Jules!” 

"Fucking hell."

"Someone get her away!"

"What the fuck!"

The whistle blew as a chorus of voices started to shout, and the chaos was deafening.

"Jules...jesus, mate."

Jules could hear her name being called but the agony was so exquisite that she thought she was going to throw up. Sounds were becoming distant and the edges of her vision had turned grey, prickling at the edges. Gentle hands on her good shoulder helped her roll onto her back but then she hissed in pain and they rapidly retreated. Graham swore multiple times, which really wasn’t like him at all and Jules would have laughed if she hadn’t been on the verge of passing out. 

"What the fuck were you playing at?"

There was a commotion from somewhere behind her but Jules was focusing too hard on breathing through the pain to really pay attention. Whoever it was - probably Donna, judging by the tone - sounded angry and that was enough to filter through. The sounds of a scuffle barely registered as wave after wave of pain threatened to deprive her of consciousness. But Jules had been through much, much worse, and she knew she could hack it if she could just catch her breath. 

“Jules, do you think you can sit up? Don't push it."

Graham, again. He was always there when she needed a helping hand and his voice was a welcome one because she was completely winded by the shove. Thankfully, the nausea was starting to abate and she nodded when he put a gentle hand on her back, easing her up with help from a couple of the others. 

Donna was definitely having a go, Jules could hear her clearly now. She wouldn’t like to have been on the receiving end of such cutting remarks. Normally, it would make Jules smile to hear Donna so eloquently rip someone a new one, but she was hurting too badly to care. Even the presence of so many people around them wasn’t much of a comfort; her shoulder was in agony and she knew there would be repercussions. This wasn’t a simple injury, like it had been with Yaz. It had been a deliberate, calculated move to take her out and Missy had succeeded.

“Take it easy, Jules,” Graham said, 

"It's fine. I'll be fine." Jules gritted her teeth, grabbing hold of her shoulder to keep it steady. Really, she wasn't so sure, but she wasn't going to admit that and definitely not in front of Missy. The thought of the other captain made her anxious but before she could try to look for her, a voice cut through the crowd.

"No, you won't."

Jules wondered if she'd hit her head harder than she thought. She could have sworn that was Yaz's voice, but why would she be there? 

The crowd dispersed and Jules couldn't believe her eyes. Yaz _was_ there. Why was Yaz there? Confusion was superseded by relief. Yaz was there. No matter what happened next, Jules was going to be in good hands. She trusted Yaz to help her. 

She insisted on standing without assistance out of habit, but the moment she crumpled, Yaz supported her without question. Her arguments fell on deaf ears but for once, Jules was pleased that someone else was taking charge so efficiently. The pain was making it hard to think straight but then again, she never really thought straight around Yaz, anyway. 

* * *

Of course Yaz had taken her to her old hospital. It was closest and judging by the way Yaz was driving, she was keen to get them there as quickly as she could. Even though they were quiet on the drive, Jules could sense that she was anxious. 

She felt anxious, too. She hadn’t returned to her old workplace since she’d quit and the mere sight of the building was an unpleasant reminder of the circumstances behind her departure. But when the receptionist recognised her, Jules knew she’d have to explain herself at least a little. Yaz was a curious person and she was bound to ask questions before too long. The best way to avoid any problematic ones was to open up a little and pre-empt them. And given the wait they were about to endure, it would be a lot easier to talk to Yaz than to force them to sit in silence because she wouldn’t talk about the obvious elephant in the room. The least she could do was acknowledge how much she appreciated Yaz’s company.

“So...how come the receptionist knows you? Are you an A&E regular or something?” 

“She knows me because I used to work here. Left about a year ago, actually. I’m not particularly good at staying put.”

Jules paused a second before continuing. It was the most she’d talked about herself in a while and she was rusty, but she could almost sense Yaz hanging on every word. 

“I spent a lot of time in hospitals as a kid. Always getting into scrapes. Like a cat with nine lives, but I’ve lost count, now.”

“Is that why you became a doctor?”

With Yaz’s gentle encouragement and accompanied by the throbbing pain in her shoulder, Jules started to let down her walls. It was just the two of them, waiting on uncomfortable chairs in a half-empty A&E waiting room, an environment that wasn’t particularly conducive to heartfelt discussions. But something about the events of the day had left Jules feeling a little raw, and she felt herself stumbling over the words as she tried to get them out. Since she’d talked with Donna and had finally acknowledged to herself that she harboured feelings for the woman next to her, Jules knew she needed to tread carefully. But the more she said, the easier it got, aided in no small part by the soft reassurance of Yaz holding her hand. Jules stared at their joined hands as she spoke, unable to meet Yaz’s eye. Talking so honestly wasn’t something that came naturally to her but the pain was eating away at her reserve.

“I became a doctor because I wanted to help.” A wave of pain left her breathless for a moment but she pushed through. “I wanted to help, but I didn't have the money for university and I couldn't choose what to study. I wanted to travel more than anything, so I got a bursary, figured I could try and do a bit of everything.”

“A bursary?” 

“Army bursary.” The mention of the army left a bitter taste in Jules’s mouth, as it always did, but of course Yaz already knew about it. She’d seen the picture on her bedside table. Jules recalled the way she’d handled things with Yaz that hungover morning. She really didn’t want a repeat of the fallout of that conversation and neither did Yaz, it seemed; she stayed quiet, waiting for Jules to continue at her own pace. 

Jules remembered her first impressions of Yaz at the hospital and realised they’d been accurate: she was a good listener, sympathetic, but there was something else that was unique to Yaz. She wasn’t listening in a professional capacity but Jules didn’t sense pity, either. She sensed empathy and sympathy but it didn’t make her pull away like it normally would. It made her feel stronger. 

“I'd never wanted to fight. If anything, I regret doing it. I hated the army. I hated being a soldier. I've been running from it ever since,” Jules admitted in a rush, startled to realise that she’d teared up. This was why she never liked to speak about things. Saying them aloud was to admit just how much they hurt her. 

To her immense relief, Yaz changed the conversation in a way that was both tactful and sympathetic. Jules felt herself falling even harder, deluged by a torrent of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. She was in physical and mental anguish, but there was Yaz; Yaz, who was beautiful and funny and stubborn, who challenged her in ways that nobody else could. Jules had never let anybody else get that close but Yaz had worked her way in, somehow. She was doing it still, and she was making the pain bearable just by being there. And Jules knew that for there to be a chance of anything between them, she would have to keep working on letting her guard down. She didn’t often share herself with others but that attitude hadn’t led to anything good - River and Bill were testament to that. Jules didn’t want to push Yaz away. She wanted her to stay, more than anything.

Finally Martha, of all people, strolled over with a look of concern on her face. _Of course her doctor would be someone Yaz knew._ At this rate, she wouldn’t have been surprised if Donna or Bill had turned up and continued their locker-room conversations from the other day.

“Yaz? Jules, what happened to your shoulder?” 

Relieved that there was at least an end in sight to her physical pain, Jules carefully got to her feet. It occurred to her that Yaz might not want to stick around, as much as Jules wanted her to. But when Yaz reassured her that she was going nowhere, she couldn’t ignore how light she felt inside. And she was certain she didn’t imagine Martha trying to hide a smile when she suggested they exchange phone numbers.

The moment they had some privacy, Jules started a mental countdown of how long it would take Martha to bring Yaz into the conversation. 

To Martha’s credit, it took longer than Jules had guessed, primarily because she was - rightly - more worried about Jules’s shoulder. 

“I’ve heard about Missy, and what happened with her. What happened here,” Martha clarified, cutting away the sleeve of Jules’s shirt. “You okay?”

Having expected Martha to start talking about Yaz, Jules was surprised by her concern. It was clear that she was asking about more than just her shoulder and her line of questioning was impressively perceptive, Jules had to give her that. 

“It was a bit of a shock to see her again,” she admitted.

“I bet,” Martha laughed. “Nobody has a good word to say about her though, not after what happened. But you…I hear nothing _but_ good things.”

Jules was flattered by the unexpected compliment. It was more than just Martha’s bedside manner; she clearly cared, and Jules admired her for it. 

“Everyone here misses you. You weren't even working here when I first started and people still talked about you,” Martha explained. “Can you try raising your arm for me?”

Jules grimaced as she tried and failed to lift her arm. It was so painful that she could barely move it, and it was no doubt swelling even as they spoke. 

“That's alright, take it easy. Any pins and needles?”

Jules shook her head and Martha continued her earlier line of thinking as she started to feel around the injury.

“There's someone in particular here that I never made a connection with until the other week, by the way. River Song.”

Jules flinched at the mention of River’s name, hoping she’d hidden it as a sign of pain. It was inevitable that Martha knew who River was, given where they both worked. Sheffield was far too small, sometimes.

“Yeah, well...she probably isn't talking to me right about now.” Jules grimaced as she remembered their last interaction.

_“You’ll tell me, won’t you? When it happens. Because it will.”_

_“What?”_

_“When you find her. That woman I can never be. Because there won’t be room for both of us. Shh, sweetie. It’s inevitable. And when it does, I want to know. Don’t dissemble. Don’t lie to me. That’s all I ask.”_

Jules sighed. River had seen the signs before Jules had even noticed them. Just how oblivious had she been? And how much of that had been self-sabotage? In football terms, how often had she scored an own goal?

“Oh?” Martha had ground to a halt, clearly intrigued and Jules knew she’d probably said too much. On the other hand, she was intrigued to see what Martha had to say about the situation. She was clearly a sharp woman. 

“I kind of left her to look after Yaz when she'd had a bit too much to drink,” Jules admitted. Even now, the memory of what had happened with River made her cringe a little.

Martha's eyebrows shot up but she said nothing. Jules wondered if she should have kept quiet, after all.

“Talking of Yaz, it was nice of her to bring you here.”

_And there it was._

“Yeah.” Jules waited impatiently for Martha to expand on her thoughts.

“You two getting on ok?”

Martha was very good at this, Jules mused. Asking questions that were vague enough to be considered polite but pointed enough to make Jules think about her answer. Martha was clearly Yaz’s friend but from the conversation they’d had thus far, she didn’t seem to judge Jules for anything. That was a relief because Jules had been convinced that most of Bill’s teammates hated her. Combined with the cautious but competent way she was assessing Jules’s shoulder, Jules surmised that Martha was somebody she could trust.

“I think so. I used to think she didn't like me all that much,” she laughed at the memory of her first interactions with Yaz - they seemed like a lifetime ago - and then scowled as a sharp pain skittered across her collarbone. 

“No laughing,” Martha cautioned, not without sympathy. “Why do you say that?” 

“We butted heads. Literally.”

“Don’t remind me,” Martha rolled her eyes. “You’re both too stubborn for your own good.”

“But now I have no idea where we stand.” Jules looked pointedly at Martha but once again, the other doctor didn’t make her life easy.

“Do you like her?” Martha prodded at a particularly tender point and Jules hissed in pain. 

“It doesn't seem very fair that you're asking me that right now,” she pointed out. 

“Sorry,” Martha said, genuinely apologetic. “Look, I think we both know what’s wrong but we’ll take an x-ray just to be sure.”

Jules realised that Martha wasn’t going to give anything away and she nodded, disheartened. 

But at the door, Martha took her by surprise, holding it shut instead of opening it. 

“I don’t know why I’m telling you this, and you owe me one after all those times you got past me on the pitch, but the suspense is driving me crazy.”

Jules frowned, wondering what Martha was getting at. She’d kept her cards close to her chest, so for her to admit something was unexpected.

“Look, don't tell Yaz, but I think she was gutted when you pulled at that social. I'm almost certain it's why she started doing shots.”

Jules took a moment to digest that nugget of information. It might not have seemed like much but it helped clarify why Yaz had been in such a state. 

“Why are you telling me this?” she asked, bewildered by Martha’s apparent change of heart.

“I just call it as I see it and I wanted to make an observation that I think might help clear some things up,” Martha shrugged. “She’s here for a reason.”

Jules felt her face grow warm as she thought about Yaz killing time in the waiting room. Waiting for her. 

“You know where x-ray is, right? Just come back when you’re done and I’ll strap you up.”

* * *

“I’m getting them just in case.”

Returned into Yaz’s care, Jules was still mulling over what Martha had told her when Yaz insisted they stop by the hospital pharmacy to pick up some of the painkillers she’d been prescribed. 

“I don’t need them,” she insisted when Yaz returned. But when Yaz guided her to the car so attentively, Jules felt her resistance melt away. It felt nice to be looked after, after so long being self-sufficient. It felt like a luxury that she could ill-afford but on days like the one she’d just had, Jules reasoned that she could allow herself to be tended to. 

“Why don’t you just take a dose now, to help you sleep?” Yaz suggested, handing over the pills and a bottle of water, both already open. It was a thoughtful gesture and Jules was touched; then she shot Jules a look that she knew would be her undoing, the Yaz equivalent of puppy-dog eyes. Those eyes watched eagerly as she swallowed the drugs, and only once Jules was comfortable did Yaz start the car. 

The car heater and the medication were a lethal combination. Jules felt herself start to drowse as Yaz carefully guided them through the streets, which were now dark. The day had gone, spent in pain, but now she felt safe and warm and exhausted. 

She hadn’t realised she’d fallen asleep until Yaz was rousing her. 

“Jules? You’re home.”

Jules was disappointed to realise that she was indeed home; she could have spent all evening just dozing in Yaz’s warm car, lulled to sleep by the monotony of the road and the simple pleasure of Yaz’s company. Not that she was particularly good company herself because the adrenaline had left her feeling like a shell of a person. She just didn’t want their time together to end so abruptly because she’d literally slept through the last half hour of it.

Opening the door caused frigid air to flood in and Jules pushed herself out with a wince. The drugs were good but they didn’t get rid of the pain entirely and the change in temperature was a rude reminder of just what she was leaving behind. She turned, wondering what to say. She knew what she wanted to happen next, and her feelings were starting to coalesce and become more concrete by the day. But instead of giving her confidence, those feelings made her awkward. She rehearsed the lines in her mind, dulled by the drugs, which had made life far more difficult than it needed to be.

_Thank you for looking after me. Do you want to come up?_

But the longer she stood there with the door open, letting in the cold air, the more awkward she became. She was aware of Yaz watching her, waiting. She was also painfully aware of how she was making Yaz cold instead of functioning like a normal human being. Yaz eventually spoke before she could string her words together. 

“I’ll see you around?”

Jules felt her shoulders slump painfully and she shifted to adjust her posture with a wince. She’d have to get used to accommodating one busted arm, and the thought was depressing. No football and no work. Even worse, Yaz seemed keen to get going and Jules realised that she probably had plans that had been derailed by an afternoon spent in the hospital, looking after her. Yaz had gone above and beyond what Jules had expected, or could hope to expect. Suddenly the idea that Yaz might want to come up and spend even more time with her seemed utterly foolish.

“Yeah,” Jules sighed. Because really, what else could she say to that? Martha and Donna might have had good intentions but they could also be wrong. Her feelings could be entirely one-sided, and the realisation hurt worse than her shoulder did. “See you around, Yaz.”


	27. Refuge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With thanks to Rachel for sharing this wonderful article about a female football player who really paved the way back in the 60s and 70s - worth a read if you have the time, it's a moving story: https://www.telegraph.co.uk/womens-sport/2020/04/24/super-striker-sue-lopez-paved-way-professionals/

It had been a bad idea to go straight to bed, but it had been the only option that seemed appealing when Jules had returned from the hospital, alone, the previous evening. With a grimace, she peeled her cheek from the pillow - she must have been out for a while, she mused, given how stiff she felt - and pulled a face when she realised just how she’d fallen asleep: at an awkward angle, her feet still dangling over the bed because she hadn’t bothered to get out of her kit. 

At least she’d managed to stay on her back because the moment she tried moving her arm, it was agony, and if she’d fallen asleep on it…

Jules sighed. She needed to be more careful. But she also knew exactly how things were going to go. Jules was never good when left to her own devices for too long and she was going to make her own life more difficult in the coming days and weeks. Without the distraction of football, and her team, and her shifts at the hospital, she knew it would be hard to avoid moping around her flat. Even though she knew what was coming, it didn’t make it any easier to avoid. 

It was already so quiet that she could hear the kitchen tap dripping. The noise was irritating but the prospect of actually getting up and out of bed didn’t appeal in the slightest and Jules lay there for an unspecified amount of time, simply staring at the bare expanse of the ceiling and thinking as her eyes moved over the subtle cracks in the paint. Once she’d noticed them, they annoyed her, not least because she wouldn’t be able to fix the problem for the next few weeks. 

Her phone vibrated quietly with new notifications every now and again, but Jules couldn’t quite summon the energy to deal with them. She wondered if Yaz had been in touch but she shut that thought down quickly, recalling how they’d parted ways. Sure, Yaz had been a helping hand when she’d needed it most, but she’d also left. Jules was very much on her own. 

She sighed again, content to ignore her phone for the time being and tamp down the curiosity that burned low and keen in the back of her mind. She hoped Yaz had messaged, but she needed to keep her cool because there were other forces at work, right now. Like Missy. 

Jules frowned down at her arm, still strapped up and immobile. Missy had done that. And Missy was directly responsible for the state Jules was now in, so why did she still feel responsible? The answer was clear: because she should have known that she hadn’t seen the last of Missy, especially when her name had actually made it into the local papers. Jules could still see the headlines in her mind’s eye:

_Superstar surgeon struck off_

_Consultant found guilty of misconduct, deaths of two patients_

_A disgraced surgeon and the cover-up that ruined lives_

Despite their punchy dramatisation, those headlines didn’t quite do justice to the scale of the misdemeanour Missy had been responsible for. And although her own name had ultimately been cleared, Jules could recall only too vividly the tortuous path to the truth and the fallout that ensued. She’d been so certain that she’d seen the last of Missy, had wished for it and tried to move on with her life but she should have known that somebody as calculated and vindictive as Missy would be back for more. She’d become complacent. She’d thought she was safe but what had happened with Bill had also shown that her head hadn’t been screwed on as tight as she’d hoped.

“Enough,” Jules groaned aloud. She could feel her mind slipping back into similar patterns of thinking and she desperately needed to avoid that happening. 

_First things first...a shower._

The one positive to having an arm out of commission was that a shower took a lot more planning and preparation than it normally did, and that in itself was a good distraction. It also took her the best part of an hour from start to finish, which killed some time, but then Jules found herself at a loose end once more. 

She knew she should eat but she didn’t feel remotely hungry so she eased herself onto the couch, flicking on the TV and settling on a rerun of Bend it Like Beckham. She’d seen it countless times before and she always enjoyed watching it, but today...today it was just an unwelcome reminder of her own circumstances, stuck on the sofa, unable to play. When she’d joined her regiment’s football team, it hadn’t taken long for her colleagues to point out the name and aptitude for football that Jules shared with one of the main characters and she'd loved it ever since.

Before she could get lost in those memories, Jules thumbed the button on the remote with far more vigour than was required. She clearly needed something more mindless to distract herself with, and she flicked through endless channels without watching anything. As she did, her thoughts drifted more and more often to Yaz, despite her best efforts. 

_Stop it._

Jules finally found a film that she’d seen before and forced herself to concentrate. 

That lasted all of five minutes and before she realised what she was doing, she was on her feet and walking back to the bedroom to retrieve her phone. She needed to tell the hospital that she wasn’t coming in for her next few shifts. She could, and should, do that, and the decision made her feel like she had a grip on things. Jules made a conscious effort to ignore the messages floating on the screen as she searched for the right number, but the moment the call was done, her thumb hovered over the lock button and she caved. She needed to know.

It took her a few moments to flick through all of the messages and she made a mental note of who she’d need to reply to, but with each scroll, her heart sank further.

Yaz hadn’t messaged. She had Jules’s number and she hadn’t been in touch. 

For some reason, even though Jules had been mentally preparing herself for the possibility, that really hurt. A part of her had hoped that Yaz might have reached out and the disappointment felt crushing. More crushing than it should have.

She stared at her phone. Eventually, the influx of messages had dried up; even Donna sensed that she was not in the mood to talk, and her last text had been 2 hours ago. Jules knew she would need to reply eventually, but right now she only wanted to speak to Yaz. And Yaz...well, Yaz was doing her own thing. Living her own life. Jules was never good at asking for help and of all the people to reach out to, it would make the most sense to ask those who had actually contacted her, asking if she was alright. 

Jules wondered why she felt so relieved that Yaz was there when the incident occurred. If it had been anybody else, she'd have pushed them away; even the people Jules knew well didn't take charge as Yaz had done, because they knew her better. They knew she didn’t like to feel pitied, that she liked to look after herself, even if she wasn't particularly good at it. 

But Jules knew she acted differently around Yaz: she cared what she thought. She almost didn’t mind being vulnerable because she trusted her, even though she didn’t really know her all that well, and not as well as she’d like. She just had a feeling about Yaz, a feeling she'd never felt before, and it scared her a little. Yaz was different. She challenged Jules, she made her question things. And Jules had fallen for her, well and truly. 

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Jules muttered to herself, roughly pocketing her phone for the time being. She’d reply to the others later, but right now she just wanted to pretend the outside world didn’t exist; to pretend that Yaz wasn’t happily going about her day without her, that Missy wasn’t out there plotting her next move. No, Jules’s world shrank to that of the boundaries of her flat and that made things a little easier to deal with. 

It was even easier to ignore the outside world when she crawled back into bed. The flat was cold - really, the heating needed to be turned on, but Jules couldn’t find the energy to care - and she felt so lethargic that a restless sleep came over her easily. 

A consistent buzzing in her pocket was what woke her, disorientated, several hours later. When she realised it was her phone, Jules answered without thinking, out of habit; years of being on call had fine-tuned her muscle memory. She winced as she nudged her arm and realised she probably shouldn’t sleep with the sling on, but she’d deal with that later.

“Jules? You there?”

“Hi, Graham.” 

“The one and only. To be honest, I’m amazed you picked up, Donna said you’ve been ignoring her messages?”

Jules sighed heavily down the phone. She wasn’t in the mood for a lecture, and especially not when she’d just woken up. Her shoulder twinged and she almost shrugged it off in irritation before thinking better of it. 

“I was sleeping,” she grumbled. 

“Oh. Right. Sorry, Jules.” Graham sounded genuinely contrite and Jules felt guilty for making him feel bad. She really had been asleep but she’d also been deliberately ignoring her messages. 

“Anyway, I hope you don’t mind but Grace insisted we bring you some dinner, if you’re feeling up to it? A little birdie told me that nasty piece of work did manage to break your collarbone, after all?”

The only people who knew that her collarbone was actually broken were Yaz and Martha. Jules couldn’t help but wonder who’d spread the news. It felt strange to be talked about behind her back.

Graham continued chatting merrily, none the wiser.

“And you know what Grace is like, she doesn’t like the thought of anyone going hungry. The thought of you trying to cook one-handed was enough to give me palpitations.”

“Hmm,” Jules hummed her agreement down the phone. Just the thought of Grace was enough to bring a smile to her face, which was something, at least. And Graham was being his charming self, as usual. He knew just how to deal with her, whether she was deflecting footballs or genuine concern. 

“Well, we don’t want to just turn up without warning, but how about tomorrow? Grace finishes early and we’ll be out of your hair before bedtime. I need my star player on the mend, after all.”

Jules chewed at her lip. She knew it would be good to socialise but it was also something that required more energy than she felt she currently had. There was the sound of muffled conversation on the end of the line.

“Oh! Oh, of course. Grace just reminded me, thanks love. We’ll bring you some supplies, too. Can’t have you going without your custard creams.”

At the mention of her favourite biscuits, Jules broke out into a grin. Comfort could often come from the most unexpected sources and the last person she’d expected it from was Graham O’Brien. 

“You get extra points for that,” Jules admitted. “Alright, I suppose I could just about manage some of Grace’s delicious home cooking.”

“Result! We’ll see you at 6, alright? You okay in the meantime?”

Jules looked around her sparse bedroom. She really needed to turn a light on and get out of bed, but sleep seemed far more appealing. 

“Yeah. You know me, bouncing off the walls already.”

“I can imagine,” Graham laughed, and Jules bade him goodnight before she hung up the phone. A quick glance at the clock informed her that it was only just after 7pm but for lack of anything better to do, sleep was her best option, despite the depressingly early hour. She looked through her messages one final time but when she confirmed that Yaz hadn’t contacted her, she cursed her masochistic streak and shoved her phone under her pillow. 

Jules slept and slept and slept some more. The pain in her arm was unpleasant but it was a helpful reminder that she could actually feel something; that she was very much alive, even if the lethargy dragging her down made her feel completely lifeless. She made a conscious effort to ignore her phone the next day, but the downside was that she’d only just made it out of bed when the doorbell rang. Her sense of time had disappeared and a quick look through the blinds confirmed that it was already dark outside. Her visitors had arrived and she was not remotely prepared.

The doorbell rang again and she pressed the button to let Grace and Graham in, wondering how she was going to make herself look presentable. In the end, she had half a minute to brush her teeth and then her time was up; a knock on her front door meant she could no longer delay. 

“Hi!” Jules smiled as she opened the door, although it felt a little forced. She could tell from the reactions of the couple on the other side that she hadn’t quite pulled it off but Grace and Graham were polite enough not to say anything. 

There was a slightly awkward pause as they all stood at the door and then Jules moved aside to let them in, and they made small talk as they passed. She cast a quick look at what she was wearing and realised that might explain their shock at her appearance - she was in worn shorts and a baggy t-shirt, despite the temperature of the flat being cold enough that Grace kept her coat on while Graham unpacked the shopping. 

“No eggs or jars or anything like that, Jules, although I forgot bananas might be a bit tricky…” Graham chatted as he laid out more food than Jules knew what to do with.

“Graham O’Brien, you aren’t letting her get a word in edgeways,” Grace chided, depositing a foil-wrapped tray on the kitchen counter and turning on the oven like she lived there herself. Something about the way she took charge put Jules at ease. 

“How are you, Jules? I heard about what happened. That woman really has some nerve.”

Jules tried not to hide herself as Grace looked her over with a clinical eye.

“Are you warm enough?”

Jules shrugged without thinking and hissed in pain.

“Shit. I really have to stop doing that,” she cursed, laughing weakly. The painkillers were lying in plain view on the counter; she’d abandoned them there when she’d got home from the hospital and hadn’t touched them since. Grace saw where her gaze had drifted and picked up the box. 

“I think these might help,” she suggested neutrally. “It must be pretty painful.”

Jules almost shrugged again, frustrated at her inability to express indifference in any other way. But Grace had truly entered nurse mode and Jules knew there was no way she’d be satisfied until she’d made sure everything was alright. She was great at her job, after all.

“I hope you don’t mind me saying this, Jules, but you look a little peaky. Why don’t you take a seat?”

Jules mutely perched on the nearest kitchen stool and finally let Grace fuss over her. A cool hand rested on her forehead while the other reached for her wrist to take her pulse.

“You don’t feel warm, but it’s pretty nippy in here, love. Is it alright if I turn on the heating for a bit?”

While Grace busied herself with the thermostat, Jules watched Graham quietly as he continued his task, groaning slightly with every bend of his knees. Jules wondered why she’d agreed to dinner when she felt this rotten; all she wanted to do was sleep, even though she’d slept for hours. She was just so tired, and the sudden presence of other people in her refuge was tiring her out even more.

“Right. I think that will help a little,” Grace said, eyeing the sling. “Have you taken this off to sleep?”

“No,” Jules admitted. 

“But you are sleeping?”

Jules nodded. That didn’t hurt, at least, and it was the truth. She knew she should try and make more conversation but Grace didn’t seem to mind her lethargy and it was easier to stick to simple facts. Grace didn’t need to know just how much she was sleeping, after all. 

“Mind if I take a look?”

Graham excused himself, muttering something about leaving something in the car. 

“He’s been so worried about you,” Grace explained as she carefully guided Jules’s arm out of the sling. “He won’t admit it, of course.”

“I’m sorry,” Jules murmured, contrite. “I didn’t mean to make him worry.”

“I know, love.” Grace sighed as she eased the material away to inspect the damage. “I think some ice might help, if you can handle that? It’s pretty swollen.”

Grace moved efficiently, wrapping a bag of frozen peas in a kitchen towel and holding it gently against the injury. When Jules moved to hold it herself, Grace shook her head. 

“Let me, alright? Just relax for a bit. But you know what I’m going to ask.”

“You’re going to ask why an A&E doctor isn’t looking after herself.”

“I’d have said it a bit nicer than that,” Grace grimaced. “I’m just a bit worried about you. When did you last eat?”

Jules honestly couldn’t recall, but she made a stab at it. 

“Before the game? I think.”

Grace looked horrified but tried to hide her shock.

“That was two days ago!”

Jules winced. She knew it had been a while but in truth, she hadn’t felt all that hungry.

“Well. We’ve brought enough food to see you through the next few days, if you feel up to eating. If you can, you should,” Grace urged. “Get your energy up.”

To Jules’s relief, there was nothing but gentle concern in her tone; she had half been expecting a telling off. She’d seen what Grace could be like when she handled difficult patients, but they were more than that. They were friends. 

“We all want to see you get through this, Jules. We’re here to help you, too. I hope you know that? You need anything, and I mean anything, and you just call us. We care about you. A lot of people do.”

Jules thought of all the messages on her phone and realised it was true. She might not have heard from Yaz, but that didn’t mean that nobody cared. Graham reappeared, brandishing no less than six packets of custard creams that he’d left in the boot of the car.

“Yeah, believe it or not, that team hinges on you. Not me, I’m just the coach,” he joked. “Now, I don’t know if these will last you much longer than a day but when you need a resupply, you just let me know. Graham O’Brien: retired bus driver, football coach, and food delivery, at your service.”

Jules surprised them all by bursting into tears.

* * *

The food did her the world of good, but Jules knew it was more than that; the company of Graham and Grace helped pull her out of her slump, even if only for a night, and the cathartic crying jag had helped more than she'd thought possible. She'd been mortified at the outburst but Grace had simply pulled her into a warm hug and not let go.

Human contact was what she had been missing, Jules realised; she soaked up all of the comfort on offer and it helped. Grace had even managed to convince her to take some painkillers before she left and they’d helped, sending Jules into somewhat loopy dreams about a spaceship that had its very own built-in custard cream dispenser. Apparently, she’d watched too much TV. 

The next morning she awoke early, feeling more refreshed than she had in days, and decided to go for a walk. That had come to a premature end when some black ice had nearly sent her flying, jarring her shoulder and ruling out any further adventures while the weather was that treacherous.

Jules could feel her mood starting to slip again. She missed being able to move freely, and to get out of her own head. She begrudgingly took some more painkillers to ease the fresh stabbing pain in her shoulder and mentally cursed her own clumsiness. Then she received a message that almost made her drop her phone.

_Are you okay? Do you need me to get anything for you? Or like...open any jars?_

Yaz had texted her out of the blue. Jules read the message three times, and then another message popped up. 

_I know it sucks that you’re missing the final game but you could always watch from the sidelines with me?_

It was odd to watch the texts arrive in real time and Jules imagined Yaz on the other end, trying to craft a message that was pitched at just the right level of concern. Her mood lifted instantly, and it was a little unnerving to realise just how much of an effect a simple message could have. But it was a text from Yaz, who was apparently trying to play it cool, and that changed everything. 

Jules grinned and almost replied until she realised that Yaz had held off for a reason. There was no rush; it had taken her three days to get in touch, after all, and Jules didn’t want it to seem like she had nothing better to do than stare at her phone, even if that was the truth. Besides, the drugs were already starting to kick in, and Jules didn’t quite trust herself to reply with something suitably suave. 

Instead, she forced herself to reply to all of the other messages that had come before. It took a long time using only one hand; eventually she switched to voice notes, which had the added bonus of making her feel like she was actually talking to someone. Speaking into the void was a lot easier than full-on phonecalls, which she didn’t quite have the energy for. And when she left Donna a rambling message about fancy dress ideas for the upcoming social that she wasn’t planning on even attending, she realised it was probably for the best that she hadn’t replied to Yaz, after all. Her filter was well and truly gone when she took those drugs.

It was only several hours later, when Yaz sent another message and the mild euphoria had finally worn off, that Jules broke. 

_Hey. I get that you might not want to talk but I want you to know that I'm here, if you do._

It was almost like Yaz was a mind reader because Jules wanted to talk to her more than anything, but she had no idea where to start. She already felt much better because Yaz had finally contacted her of her own volition; but the feelings Jules was still trying to process were not for Yaz to know about. Not yet, anyway. The prospect of sharing those was daunting.

But it would be rude to keep Yaz waiting and she typed out a simple response, one that was sufficient acknowledgement of the sentiment but which kept her thoughts close to the chest, for now. 

_Thank you._

She really did mean it. Jules had realised over the course of the afternoon, when she replied to her friends, that Grace had been right: plenty of people cared about her. It had been hard to avoid drawing parallels with the last time she’d injured a shoulder, when she’d had to leave the army. She’d pushed everybody away so far and so fast and had felt so utterly lonely that her recovery had taken far longer than it should have. 

Yaz stopped texting when she finally replied. It felt as though they were playing a game of a different sort, but Jules knew they could be as stubborn as one another. She smiled as she thought about Yaz trying not to text. She knew she could outlast Yaz and she was proved right only a couple of days later, just as she was about to go to sleep. It had been another long and uneventful day and Jules had tried to forget that she was missing out on the last team social of the year. She knew she’d be poor company and she didn’t want to bring down the mood. When her phone lit up with an incoming text, she felt her heart skip a beat when she saw who it was from.

 _Your arch nemesis is here and it's taking all my willpower not to give her a taste of her own medicine_

This time, Jules’s face fell when she read the message. There was only one person Yaz could be referring to and the thought of them together in a room was enough to make her blood run cold. 

_Missy? You should stay away from her, Yaz. She's bad news._

The last thing she wanted was for them to cross paths, not least because she didn’t want Missy getting her claws in. Jules tried to stay calm as Yaz replied, the three dots dancing and taunting her. It seemed Yaz was a little drunk, given the length of the message and how long it had taken her to type it. She was even slower than Jules but the lack of typos suggested she was putting a lot of additional care and effort into her messages.

_Ok. But I still hate her for what she did to you. I'm sorry if I woke you up btw_

Jules breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever had happened, Missy hadn’t opened her mouth too much. Although Yaz still had no idea of the bad blood between them, the fact she was so protective made Jules smile. She recalled hearing someone shouting at Missy on the pitch and although she’d thought it was Donna at the time, Donna had since informed her that it was actually Yaz who had torn into Missy. 

_It's ok, I was up. If Missy has any sense, she’s probably scared of you, anyway. I heard you strode right onto the pitch that day. Wish I'd seen it properly for myself._

The thought of Yaz storming onto the pitch was one that Jules revisited often. Sometimes she entertained an entirely different outcome, in which her collarbone had remained intact and in which Yaz had directed that energy towards Jules, instead, channelling her frustration in ways that involved far less clothing. It seemed that being left to her own thoughts for too long had an upside, sometimes.

When the phone started buzzing in her hand and Yaz’s name flashed up on the screen, Jules fumbled. Texting was one thing but those images were still fresh in her mind and the person who’d been so integral to them was now calling her. They hadn’t spoken properly since that fateful day. Jules took a breath and answered the phone.

“Yaz? You ok?”

“Too tired to type. And I've forgotten what you sound like.”

Hearing Yaz’s voice was like being reunited with an old friend. It had only been a week or so, but Jules had missed the sound of it and now it was right in her ear while she was tucked up in bed. And Yaz was definitely drunk. 

“I forgot it was the social,” Jules laughed, a white lie. 

“Yeah. You were missed.”

“Oh?” 

“Don’t sound so surprised. More than a few of us missed you.”

Jules immediately latched on to Yaz’s choice of words. Although it felt like she had a bit of an advantage being sober while Yaz was very much not, Yaz had been the one to reach out. This was a golden opportunity to do some digging.

“Us? Does that include you?” she teased. She heard Yaz sigh down the line when she’d realised her slip of the tongue.

“Maybe. That’s not a bad thing though, right?”

Jules felt her breath hitch at the unexpected admission. What was Yaz asking her? Jules floundered for a response but she’d been put on the spot. She wondered if Yaz would even remember this conversation in the morning. 

“No. It’s not.”

There was a long pause. Too long.

“Yaz?”

Jules frowned, pulling the phone away from her ear. The call had ended. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” she groaned. It was nearly 1am and she had no idea if Yaz was alright. She fired off a quick text and spent far too long wondering if she should add a kiss to the end but then realised she didn’t have much to lose. That snippet of phone call had been far more revealing than she’d expected.

_Are you ok? X_

Accompanied by nothing but the silence of her flat, Jules counted down the time. She swore that if Yaz hadn’t replied within 20 minutes, she’d call Bill to make sure everything was alright. 

To her immense relief, at minute 19, Yaz finally replied. Apparently she hadn’t heard Jules’s reply or was too drunk to continue the conversation, because she’d gone home and was about to pass out. 

_Yeah sorry, phone died. Gonna sleep now. Wish you were here. X_

Jules clutched her phone to her chest in astonishment. She knew Yaz might well regret being so honest in the morning and she resisted the urge to reply for that very reason. She also didn’t have the excuse of being drunk, and she didn’t want to start confessing her feelings via text message. But she felt exactly the same way, and genuine hope blossomed for the first time in days. Things might turn out alright, after all. 

“I wish you were here, too,” she spoke aloud and although she knew Yaz hadn’t heard her, it helped to hear herself say the words. To admit what she felt was liberating and the fog in her mind started to clear, just a little. She tried them again, just to see if they would help things take focus.

“I really wish you were here, Yaz.”


	28. Resolution

Jules sent the messages before she could think twice. By and large, she knew she’d been overthinking things and being cautious, but a conversation earlier that very morning had given her a push in the right direction and she hesitated only briefly before hitting send. She was paraphrasing, but it was a refreshing change of pace.

_ How did the move go?  _

_ Bill texted me out of the blue and mentioned it.  _

She and Yaz had been texting sporadically since just before Christmas. Yaz hadn’t acknowledged their drunken phone call so Jules didn’t bring it up, but in the past week, Yaz had also gone quiet and Jules felt like progress was so slow it could move backwards. She started to wonder if she’d done something wrong, which was a risky route to follow without any evidence to convince her otherwise. Luckily, Bill had texted her in the new year to say that her resolution was to make peace with the past.

It was a good resolution, so good that Jules decided to adopt it for herself. And then she realised that an obvious opportunity to make a start on it was to actually speak to Bill. They hadn't been in contact much, but Bill had offered to help after the incident with Missy and Jules knew she would have followed through if Jules had taken her up on the offer. It took very little effort to actually call her and the moment Bill picked up, Jules was glad she had thought to do it. Bill sounded as happy as Jules had ever heard her and it brought a smile to her face. 

_ "Hey, Bill. Happy New Year."  _

_ "Happy New Year to you, too," Bill seemed pleasantly surprised at the call and Jules wished she'd reached out and talked to more people over the past few weeks. She felt rusty at conversation to say the least. "I wasn’t expecting to hear from you." _

_ “Yeah, I've er...I’ve been pretty bad at keeping in touch” Jules admitted. “I need to make more of an effort, especially since I won’t be going anywhere near a football for 3 weeks.”  _

_ “Ahh. Berlin...right. You’re coming?” Bill sounded intrigued. Football was always reasonably safe territory. _

_ “Yeah, you can’t keep me away,” Jules grinned. The thought of playing again was exciting, and a light at the end of a tunnel that had, at points, felt long and dark. She knew she’d need to get the all clear before she went back onto the pitch but even the prospect of physiotherapy didn’t tarnish her enthusiasm.  _

_ “I bet you’re going mad, cooped up indoors.” _

_ “You could say that.” _

_ Jules had gotten used to her own company, but that didn’t make it any easier. She had toasted in the new year alone with some whiskey. It had helped her sleep but she’d had a hell of a headache the next day and she'd regretted it almost instantly. Her first New Year’s resolution had been to cut out the solo whiskey sessions and she hoped she wouldn’t have to spend any more feeling quite so sorry for herself. The prospect of a fresh new year made it easier to write off the end of the last one, which had been tumultuous to say the least.  _

_ “Jules, I kinda know what you’re like. I bet you’ve not even talked to anyone properly in weeks.” _

_ Bill was right, of course. She’d not even talked to Yaz fully, and she’d only really kept others up to date via text messages. She prided herself on being self-sufficient, even if it wasn’t always what she actually wanted. Before long, she hoped she'd be surrounded by other people again.  _

_ “Sometimes I wish you didn’t know me quite so well,” she grumbled.  _

_ “Yeah, well...you and me both. But I do know someone who would like to get to know you better.” _

_ Bill’s tone turned teasing and it gave Jules butterflies. She hoped above all else that Bill was talking about Yaz but it was unlikely to be anybody else, and Jules couldn’t help but consider how unexpected this whole scenario was; that the person who was now pushing them together was her ex. Then again, it made sense, given that Bill knew them both. Jules trusted Donna and respected Martha, but Bill was the person who had the most insight into both parties.  _

_ “Yeah?” She tried to play it cool but she was desperate for Bill to say Yaz's name. _

_ “I think you know, too." That was as good an answer as she was going to get. "She’s just moved, got her own place. Why don’t you go lend a hand?” _

_ Was that why Yaz had been so quiet? It would explain a lot. Bill had just cleared up her confusion without even intending to. _

_ “Why are you doing this?” she asked, genuinely curious.  _

_ “Because I hate seeing you both so unhappy,” Bill said bluntly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Against my better judgement, I love you both and I reckon that you might actually be the answer to each other’s problems.” _

_ Jules was speechless for a moment. They really had turned a corner.  _

_ “You’re amazing, Bill.” _

_ “Yeah, yeah, I know. Now go and say hi to her. In person. Leave that flat, please.” _

  
  


It didn’t take long for Yaz to reply. When Jules saw how suggestive her reply was, she mused that perhaps Yaz was just as eager to move things forward after all. 

_ Not too bad. Maybe you'll have to come and see it some time, when you're feeling up to it?  _

Jules opted to be blunt. They’d danced around the topic for long enough and she wanted to see Yaz more than anything. Now she had the perfect excuse. 

_ To be honest I could do with leaving these four walls. _

Jules had recently discovered that being honest helped her feel better about things. And anyway, Yaz was offering. It would be foolish to decline. Yaz's reply came through instantly.

_ Well I'm not up to much today, other than unpacking. _

Jules leaped at the chance to see Yaz so soon. The thrill of it gave her a genuine rush and once Yaz had provided her address, Jules busied herself with the logistics of showering and getting fully dressed for the first time in several days. She opted for some dungarees to accommodate the cursed sling, a hoodie that wouldn’t weigh down her shoulder too much, and some slip-on shoes to avoid the whole palaver of shoelaces. All in all a fairly practical outfit, and that suited her perfectly. 

Even then, it still took her a lot longer than she'd have thought to get ready and she frowned at the clock on her phone when she saw the whole process had taken over an hour. She tapped her foot impatiently as she awaited the Uber and was unable to keep her leg from bouncing as it ferried her across town. 

She knew where Yaz lived. She was going to see Yaz. 

Nervous excitement made the journey drag but even worse was the wait between pressing the buzzer and Yaz opening the door. It couldn't have been longer than a minute but it felt like it took forever. She’d been eager to see Yaz for a long time and she hadn’t realised until the moment had finally arrived. A last-minute panic gripped her as she heard Yaz approaching the door and she looked down at her attire, wishing she'd made more of an effort.

But then the door was opening and Yaz was there, looking happy and healthy and even more beautiful than she remembered. Jules shivered, wishing she’d brought a more substantial jumper when she felt the heat from Yaz’s flat seep out into the hallway moments later.

"Hey," Jules breathed, but Yaz didn't seem to hear her. She was staring. 

"Can I come in?"

"Sorry, I just- bit distracted," Yaz stammered, moving aside to let her pass. Was Yaz nervous? She'd always seemed so self-assured on the pitch but this was new. 

There was an awkward pause where neither of them seemed to know how to act and Jules was relieved that she wasn’t the only one who felt uncertain about what to do with herself. She wanted to hug Yaz more than anything but they both seemed to hesitate for too long and then the moment passed. They might not quite be at that point yet, but it felt like they could get there. Jules hoped they were working towards it. 

As Yaz walked them through the hallway, she took the opportunity to look at Yaz’s new flat, which thus far was filled mainly with boxes. 

“I swear I’ve been going through stuff, but it looks worse than it did this morning.” 

Yaz was apparently embarrassed but it really wasn’t even that bad. Then again, compared to Jules’s utilitarian flat anything would look messy. It seemed like they’d come full circle now that both of them had seen where the other lived. A few books were out already, all with titles that Jules recognised. There were some framed photographs on display but they were too far out of view to see, and Jules wished she’d put in her contacts.

Yaz guided her to a comfortable sofa and Jules settled on it with a shiver. Now that she was somewhere warm, it was like the ache in her bones had finally started to thaw. She didn’t miss the flicker of a frown cross Yaz’s face when she noticed her shake. 

"Cold out today." Jules finally acknowledged the chill and Yaz immediately offered to get her a blanket. Jules felt terrible that Yaz was fussing over her, but that guilt lingered only for a second when a cosy blanket was draped around her shoulders. Instead, she realised just how much she enjoyed the attention. She hadn't been that close to anybody since Grace had hugged her several weeks ago.

This time, though, the contact was different. The feel of Yaz's fingers against her neck made it hard to concentrate; her perfume was light and it suited her, sweet but not sickly. Comforting. Yaz was in a floral shirt and some jeans and Jules realised with a start that she'd never seen her in anything but her police uniform, a football kit, or clothes she’d wear on a night out. It felt like she was seeing Yaz as she truly was.

And this version of Yaz made very good tea, even without sugar.

Yaz started to talk while Jules recovered her senses, still painfully aware of just how close they were sitting, if not as close as she'd like. It was a good thing her arm was in a sling because it made it harder to reach out and that was a temptation she needed to curb. With any luck, though, she wouldn't have to for much longer. Jules sincerely hoped this conversation would be a turning point because it already felt like it could be. There was definitely an elephant in the room, judging by the way they were acting so carefully around one another. 

And now that they were here, alone, with no distractions, it was the perfect opportunity for Jules to say what was on her mind. 

“So...how have you been?” Yaz took a sip of her tea and put it to one side.

It was a normal question but Jules wasn't sure how to answer it. She couldn't exactly launch into why she'd come over from the word go, and she was unused to answering these kinds of questions properly. Still, she had a good stab at it. 

“Oh, you know...same old."

“I don't know about that,” Yaz frowned, and already Jules could sense that Yaz wasn't going to let her off the hook so easily. “You seem a little...different, I guess.”

“How do you mean?” If Yaz was going to be upfront, Jules would be, too. She was curious about what Yaz was suggesting. Was her own nervousness that obvious?

“You seem quieter than usual. I dunno. Guess it's just been a while since I've seen you. I'm used to seeing you striking fear into defenders on the pitch.”

The mention of football never failed to make Jules smile but it reminded her of precisely why they hadn't seen one another.

“Guess it's been a while since I've been in polite company. Got a bit lost in my own head.” It was true. It felt strange to acknowledge it but Jules really felt like she'd made enough progress that she could put it in the past.

“I know what that can be like. But I'm glad you came over.”

_ Interesting _ . Jules wondered what Yaz was getting at but now clearly wasn't the time to ask. 

They’d got past the first hurdle and Jules tried to relax. It felt like there was everything to play for and both of them seemed painfully aware of that fact. Neither of them wanted to lose but there was one positive: both of them were hopefully playing for the same side. 

What Jules didn’t expect was for Yaz to ask about Bill. It wasn’t quite where she had wanted to go next, but it was as good a topic as any; no doubt Yaz had heard a certain version of events and now Jules was being given the chance to put hers across. In a way, Bill had led them here, so it seemed almost right that they at least discuss what had happened. It was a good opportunity to clear up any misunderstandings.

“I hope you don't mind me asking, but what happened between you two?”

Jules had tried to forget the final argument she'd had with Bill about their relationship but it was far too easy to recall. She could even picture Bill’s face during it. Sometimes she cursed her memory for being so good.

"We weren't a good match. She seemed to think I was something I’m not.”

  
  


_ "Why won't you let me in?" _

_ "Don't you know enough?" _

_ "Not nearly." _

"Bill needed to put herself first, before she got hurt. So she ended things, which I didn't fight too hard to keep hold of."

Jules grimaced as she recalled the way she'd let things fizzle out. She should have given them more of a chance but deep down she knew that it was never going to work, and she’d chickened out and let Bill make the decision. Bill, who had been a distraction when she’d needed one most, was also why she’d been so cautious about interrogating her feelings about Yaz. She didn’t want to make the same mistake again and the last thing she wanted to do was to hurt anyone in the same way.

But Yaz was wonderfully open-minded and it put her at ease. Perhaps she really had spent too long thinking about it.

"I had no idea she'd ended it,” Yaz admitted, and Jules wondered just how much Bill had told her. Apparently not as much as she’d assumed. “But honestly, I hope you don’t mind me saying, it sounds like it might have been a good thing for both of you."

Yaz had a point. It always helped to hear another perspective, although guilt still nagged at her.

"Yeah. She tried to get back together a few weeks later but I knew she was right to break things off, so I said no. She started seeing Amy not long after that."

"Oh. Jules...what made her end it? There must have been something. Bill is the most laid back person ever. Something must have tipped her off."

Jules had to give Yaz credit where it was due. She was sharp.

"You're not wrong," she laughed, wondering how to word things in a way that wouldn't be too damaging. After all, she didn't want Yaz to come away with the wrong impression and it had been a rather messy time in her life. But she'd had time to think about this and it felt like Yaz deserved to know what had happened.

"When I left the army, I dealt with things terribly," she admitted, pulling at the edge of the blanket. It was so hard not to fidget or get up and pace, but it helped that Yaz was so close, listening patiently. A quick glance showed no judgment in her expression, and Jules took courage in that to continue. 

"I went out a lot. I drank a lot. And I met Bill on a night out. You know what Bill's like, she's great. We had a lot of adventures. Lots of good times."

Their times together had been good, there was no doubt about that. They just weren't quite compatible. River was the same. On one level they’d clicked, partly because River didn't ask questions and because she could understand Jules enough that they both got something out of their arrangement. But Jules knew Yaz was different. Yaz wanted to know more and for the first time, Jules wanted to tell someone. She wanted to elevate what they had, and that meant baring her soul. 

"But despite all of that, I never let her in. Not properly. Not in the way she should have been. She got some half-baked version of me and she deserved better. And at the end of the day, I let her get hurt because I was too selfish to be alone."

Jules had been alone for so long now that she'd forgotten what it was like to fall for someone so hard. The person sitting opposite her was the only person who had truly come close to derailing Jules's status quo. The only person she was willing to risk everything for.

“I should have waited for the right person.”

Jules waited for Yaz's reaction and she marvelled when she saw it, the gentle intake of breath and the genuine surprise on her face. She waited a beat, two, but the vulnerability became overwhelming and she pulled back. She'd veered so close to the edge but she wanted Yaz to meet her halfway. It was clear that Yaz had understood just what she was getting at, and she hadn't shied away. 

There was only one thing left she had to say; she had to voice her one true fear.

"Yaz, I've not got the best track record and I really, really don't want to fuck things up like I normally manage to do."

By saying that aloud, directly to Yaz, Jules cautiously put herself on the line. She'd worded things vaguely enough that she could come out of this with her dignity intact if Yaz pulled away, but thankfully, Yaz did the opposite. Her expression softened and she gazed at Jules so openly that it felt like they were finally on the same page. Did Jules see her own feelings mirrored there? 

"It's not selfish to want to be with somebody, Jules. It's human. We all want the same thing, at the end of the day. To not be alone."

Yaz spoke slowly, emphasising every word, and it occurred to Jules that she might not be the only lonely person in this room. But she  _ did _ feel selfish for wanting to be with Yaz. She wanted Yaz all to herself, to learn every part of her, and to be the only person in the universe who was able to do that. She’d never felt like that before and she had no idea how to start to explain it. But before she could, Yaz took her by surprise.

"You know, I used to think you were a cocky little shit."

The change in topic and the gentle insult made Jules laugh.

"Anyway. I've changed my mind a bit. Even if you are a cocky little shit at times, that doesn't mean you're not also an incredible person, Jules. And you are so, so hard on yourself."

Yaz wouldn’t tolerate interruptions and Jules bit her tongue. She had so much to say that it was actually hard to keep quiet.

"You know what I think? I think you isolate yourself to try and save people from getting hurt...but all you're doing is making yourself miserable." 

That hit a bit too close to home and Jules wondered just how much Yaz could see. She was eerily perceptive but she still didn’t know everything. She had no idea what Jules was capable of.

"It's better that way. I've lost so many people, Yaz.”

Jules could recall their smiling faces almost instantly. They would never truly leave her, but it had been so easy to let them linger. To let her guilt and grief take over, as if they could make up for the fact that she was still alive when none of them were. She had been responsible for them as much as they had been responsible for her. They were her team, and she’d let them down. The thought made her bitter.

“Do you know what it's like to see your best friends die? In the blink of an eye, they're gone. Getting attached just leads to grief at the end of the day."

The anxiety the new path of conversation prompted made the phantom pain in her shoulder flare up and Jules rubbed at it without thinking. Her whole chest ached with the burden of grief that she always seemed to carry. Yaz had started to uncover it, and she was undeterred. But there was no pity, just genuine curiosity. She wanted to understand, not observe from a distance and move on. 

"Is that what happened there?" Yaz eyed her old injury, which was still hidden from sight, but Jules knew that Yaz would probably see the damage before too long, if she hadn’t already. There was no point in lying.

"IED." Those three letters had destroyed her life and she was still picking up the pieces. "I was the lucky one, thrown far enough from the vehicle that I survived it. Everyone else on my squad...they weren't quite so lucky."

That was an understatement, but Yaz didn’t need to know the details. It didn’t take her long to put two and two together, though, and Jules was surprised by the speed with which she did it. She’d always been attracted to bright people, like a moth to a flame. Yaz burned brightest of all.

"The photo…" 

“Yeah,” Jules murmured, her voice breaking slightly. She didn’t realise she was gripping the blanket so tightly until Yaz reached out and covered her hand with her own.

“No, I don't know what that's like,” Yaz said, quietly. “I'm so sorry, Jules.”

Her apology was so genuine that it yanked Jules from her misery. She didn’t want Yaz shouldering any of her sorrow and she relinquished her grip on the blanket to grasp Yaz’s hand instead, giving it a gentle squeeze for emphasis.

“You don't need to apologise. You're right, though. Life is too short to waste, and I've wasted lives.” 

“You can't keep thinking like that,” Yaz insisted. “You can't let the past haunt the present. I used to do the same, but all it does is hold you back.”

The sentiment was so similar to her own resolution that Jules wondered if the universe was sending her a sign. That it would be okay for her to start to forget. It was obvious that the guilt she felt over past events was actively holding her back and it wasn’t healthy. Bill and Yaz had just taught her that.

She was shocked to see tears in Yaz’s eyes.

“I should follow my advice right now, really,” Yaz laughed, as she wiped them away.

But Jules didn’t quite follow. Yaz must be referring to something else because they hadn’t known one another for long enough to truly have a history. 

“That whole ‘life being too short’ thing...I’ve wasted so much time, Jules. I didn’t know what I was feeling for weeks. It took me a long time to realise.”

Jules tightened her grip. Now Yaz was laying it out there and she hung on every word. 

“Realise…?”

“Realise how I feel about you,” Yaz said. Even though Jules had been hoping for Yaz to admit she felt something, it was still a pleasant surprise to hear the words cross her lips. Jules couldn’t help her response and she felt herself grinning at the admission. Yaz had feelings for her, after all. She wasn't alone in feeling the way she did. At her lowest point, Jules had let herself fantasise about this very moment and she'd wondered who would be the first to say it aloud. Of course it had been Yaz. Brave, clever, beautiful Yaz, who had admitted something and made her feel such boundless joy. The least she could do was admit that she had been thinking the same.

“I don't want to hurt you, Yaz." Whatever happened, she wanted Yaz to know that she had her best interests at heart.

“You think I'm afraid?” Yaz replied almost instantly. Defiantly. “You think I’m a coward?” 

Jules shook her head. Yaz was the least cowardly person she’d ever met.

“I'm no coward," Yaz said. "And neither are you.”

It was the sign Jules had been waiting for. A challenge. She was never one to shy away from those and she certainly wasn’t a coward, so when Yaz stared at her lips for a second too long, Jules felt herself leaning in. This time the suspense was pleasant torture and Jules had moved in close enough to feel Yaz’s breath ghost across her lower lip. It was getting harder to keep her eyes open but she wanted to see everything, memorise it all. Her nose brushed against Yaz’s as she shifted, her hand automatically reaching up to rest on the back of Yaz’s neck and hold her close. 

There was no way she was going to let this moment slip through her fingers. She’d pictured it often enough that she couldn’t wait to find out if the real thing was just as good as she’d imagined. Yaz’s lips were mere millimetres away and Jules fancied she could already feel their plump softness pressed against her own. 

She heard Yaz make a soft sound as her eyes drifted closed and the unexpected noise warmed Jules from the inside out. She'd never heard Yaz make a sound like that before and she wanted to hear her make it again, but by now the anticipation had reached fever pitch; Jules finally shut her own eyes, knowing there was no way they could miss when they were that close-

And then a sudden, loud, bleating sound from the left sent her shooting backwards into the arm of the couch in alarm. She cursed as she fell from cloud nine and back to earth, signposted by a stab of pain in her injured shoulder from the jolt. Yaz had startled worse than she had, but that in turn made Jules even more jumpy and she felt adrenaline kick her heart rate into the stratosphere. 

But this wasn't a standard fight or flight response. She'd been so wrapped up in Yaz that she'd completely forgotten her surroundings. That rarely happened, but it was a sign of just how focused she'd been on kissing Yaz - well, almost kissing Yaz - that she'd essentially forgotten the rest of the world even existed, just for a moment. It had distilled down to Yaz and Yaz alone. It was a marvellous feeling and Jules craved more. 

“Shit,” Yaz swore. She seemed even more confused than Jules felt because she hadn’t realised what had interrupted them so abruptly. 

Jules let herself slump against the sofa with a nervous laugh, blood still pumping fast through her veins. They'd been so close. Of course they'd been interrupted by someone that wasn't even in the room. 

“Your phone. I think your phone is ringing.”

Jules bit back a grin when she saw just how disorientated Yaz was. She got to her feet, looking blindly for it. Jules took pity on her. 

“Yaz. It’s on the coffee table.”

“Oh. Right." Yaz snatched up the phone and the ringing stopped soon after. Blessed silence. Jules was certain she could still hear ringing but then she realised it could be the blood roaring in her ears.

“My sister,” Yaz explained as she frowned at the screen, looking distinctly unhappy. 

Jules took a deep breath. She hadn’t even known that Yaz had a sister but the mention of one sent reality crashing back around her. Her heart was still racing but the moment had definitely passed. There was no way they could recreate it, not now. It would feel too forced and she wanted it to be as organic as possible.

“Ah. Probably wondering how you’re getting on, I reckon. I should let you get on with things.” Jules slowly got to her feet, still thrown by what had just happened and suddenly wiped out by the ebb and flow of adrenaline. The conversation had been a tough one to have and the last reserves of her energy had been eliminated by the sudden shock of the phone call. It had been the most excitement she’d seen in weeks. 

“Yeah. You should get some rest,” Yaz agreed. Jules readily took the hand she offered, and didn’t let go until they got to the door. Even then, she did it only reluctantly, and in exchange she compromised by leaving a kiss against Yaz’s cheek. It wasn’t quite the same, but it would have to tide them over until the next time they met. Jules had a feeling that wouldn’t be long.

The hallway was cold after the warmth of Yaz’s flat but even so, Jules ground to a halt halfway down the stairs. Part of her was screaming to go back and it was so tempting to return to the warmth of Yaz’s home. To the warmth of Yaz. Instead, she tugged her hoodie around herself, feeling the heat leech from her body with every step towards the outside. But Yaz had imbued her with a warmth of a different kind. It comforted Jules on the way home and for so many days afterwards that Jules lost count.


	29. Dancing (II)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With thanks to Kim for the reminder that this shirt exists 😍 imagine Jules in this and you aren't far off what I was picturing the first time around! https://twitter.com/stxrsinspace/status/1288212153363845125?s=20
> 
> Also apologies to anyone expecting smut, like the first time around it was way too much fun writing their dance together <3

_2 weeks later_

The shrill noise of the whistle cut cleanly through the bitter air, calling an abrupt end to the match. Jules braced her hands on her knees, catching her breath; she’d gotten carried away, too swept up in her first game of football in several weeks. It had been a lot of fun and hard work, as the smear of mud down one side of her kit would attest to, but she was already feeling the effects of her time out of action. She never normally got that tired after a game but she knew her fitness would return before too long. Or at least she hoped so, because it was slightly alarming to see how her breaths still clouded the chilly air as her team made their way back indoors to get warm. On the plus side, her arm ached only a little, which suggested that not only would she be able to keep playing, but that her plans for the evening wouldn’t be hampered by injury.

Jules lingered, bringing up the rear with Graham as she listened in to the chatter of her team. They seemed to be in good spirits and she knew she had Donna to thank for that, since she’d unofficially become team captain in Jules’s absence. Graham was talking about the weather - of course he was - but it meant that Jules could tune him out while she scanned the pitch for Yaz. She found herself doing it without even thinking. Thus far, her only glimpse of Yaz had been in the changing room before the game, but those few seconds had been sufficient reminder of the other reason she was so excited to be in Berlin. Finally, and with any luck, they’d get some time alone. She’d been wrestling with her feelings for Yaz for so long and now there was a golden opportunity to move things forward at last. 

Their attempts to see one another in the interim had been scuppered by Yaz’s horrific pattern of shifts, but Jules was patient. Now that they were in Berlin, however, the anticipation was now reaching fever pitch, so much so that Jules barely heard one of the German players strike up a conversation with her as they retreated to the changing rooms. 

“Nice tackle,” the woman said, and it took Jules a second to place her. She was a defender for the German team and had put up a decent opposition. But there was something else in her tone - or, rather, the blatant way she was looking at Jules - that suggested she was interested in talking about more than football. Normally, Jules would be flattered by the attention and possibly entertain the thought of flirting back, but not now. It was an unusual state of affairs, to be so flummoxed by the attention. In the end, the pause became so prolonged that Graham finally stepped in and ended it, complimenting the player on her own technique. 

Jules chipped in after a moment, mildly embarrassed by her faux pas. Yaz had well and truly invaded her thoughts and Jules had finally capitulated. But rather than feel trapped or like she’d reached a dead end, she felt secure in the knowledge that she’d made the right choice. She couldn’t even explain how she knew that it was right, either, only that it felt that way. That in itself had been hard to come to terms with because it defied quantification but for once in her life, Jules was content just to feel the measure of it. Right now it was weighing on her heavily but in the best possible way.

When they finally reached the changing rooms, Jules felt something else take over. The best way she could describe it was something akin to nervous excitement, which she hadn’t felt in a long, long time. She showered as efficiently as she could, which took longer than she'd have liked because of the mud coating her leg, and chatted animatedly with Donna even as she kept an eye out for Yaz. Martha was there and Jules was sure she had seen Bill at the far end of the room, but where was Yaz?

“That was offside, anyway,” Donna grumbled, referring to the first goal by the German team. Jules laughed aloud at her expression, forcing herself back into the conversation. Her mind drifted far too easily when Yaz was concerned.

“As if! Donna, you were too busy flirting with the ref to even notice.”

“As if? As if?! Says the woman who’s been flirting with someone for months without even realising.”

Jules laughed again as she tugged on a pair of warm joggers. She left the shirt until last because her arm was still causing her a bit of bother and she could already feel it stiffening up a little. At least she had an excuse for being slow, but she knew she’d have to stretch it out properly before she got ready for the evening. Her physiotherapist was unimpressed with her inability to remember her exercises and Jules bit back a laugh when she realised that it was the thought of sleeping with Yaz that was actually prompting her to do them. Perhaps next time the physio came out with a snarky comment about her lack of discipline she’d mention that.

“Maybe if you hadn’t been flirting with him he’d have noticed it was offside,” Jules suggested, then she had to dodge one of Donna’s balled-up socks thrown in retaliation. But Donna had a point, as usual, and their back and forth was welcomed after so long without it. 

There was a pause in the banter while Donna put away her kit and that was when Jules heard the lingering sound of running water. Would that explain where Yaz had been? Her slow progress in getting dressed practically ground to a halt when she heard it. Even Donna, who was normally too busy talking to get dressed, was fully clothed; most of the others had started to traipse out of the room, clearly eager to move onto the social side of their trip. Jules bit back a sigh at the thought. That part of the night would no doubt be long and feel even longer, but at least she’d have an excuse to talk to Yaz. The thought brought a smile to her face that was still in place when the shower finally stopped and none other than Yaz emerged, wrapped in a towel. 

Her eyes tracked Yaz across the room. Water droplets trickled down her calves and Jules realised she wanted to follow their path with her hands, to feel the definition of those muscles for herself. 

Was Yaz being deliberately slow, too? Judging by the fact that nearly every other player had either left or was dressed, it certainly seemed that way.

“We’ll just…” Martha grabbed Donna’s arm.

“What?”

“We’re leaving, aren’t we?” 

“Are we? I was going to ask- OW!”

Jules laughed at their lack of subtlety. As obvious as they were being, she appreciated Martha’s attempts to give them some time alone. 

“Oh!” Donna exclaimed. “Ohhhh. Yes, that’s right. We’re off.”

Finally, they left. When Yaz turned to look at her, Jules was certain all of the air left her lungs in a rush. She knew it wasn’t physiologically possible but it felt that way. She took a steadying breath. The moment she’d been waiting for was finally here. Yaz seemed to be waiting, too; she made no move to get dressed, even though the temperature in the room was starting to drop now that it had emptied.

“Are you not going to get dressed?” Jules pointed at Yaz’s towel. “You’ll get cold.”

She happily ignored the fact that she herself was only half clothed. Her skin felt like it was on fire. 

“Feels pretty warm in here to be honest.” Yaz openly stared at her stomach, her eyes trailing slowly over her abs and the waistband of her jogging bottoms. Jules felt herself become even warmer at the blatant attention but she knew precisely what to do with it. Yaz had given her the upper hand without even realising it.

“Really?” Jules removed the distance between them without hesitation and placed her palm on Yaz’s forehead. “You do seem a bit flushed.” 

She looked into Yaz’s eyes, pleased when Yaz didn’t look away. They were as beautiful as she’d remembered. 

“Your pupils are dilated,” she continued, blindly reaching for Yaz’s wrist. It was easy, given how often she did it at work, but she needed some kind of contact and as she felt Yaz’s pulse racing under her fingertips, she finally let the act fall to one side. 

“Oh dear, Yaz. What are we going to do with you?”

They were already close but she took a step closer, eliminating any illusion of space. Yaz took a shaky breath and Jules forced herself to remain calm. There was no way they were going to be interrupted this time, she’d make sure of it. But being so close to Yaz was sending any remaining self-control out of the window and Jules knew she might have a struggle on her hands if she couldn’t get a handle on herself. 

“You know exactly what.” Yaz licked her lips. “You’re such a tease.” 

Jules blinked and then Yaz’s hands were in her hair, and then they were moving towards one another in a way that felt so natural that it was shocking they hadn’t done it before. When their lips finally met it was like she’d come home. Kissing Yaz was the easiest thing in the world and it came so easily that it felt like she’d done it before, thousands of times. 

But she hadn’t; she’d only dreamt of it, and now her dreams were coming true. It didn’t take long for proceedings to kick up a notch, which was not surprising given the heat that they were generating, and almost to be expected when Yaz brazenly ran a hand down her abs. Jules felt like she’d explode if she couldn’t divest herself of the energy that was suddenly filling her limbs and her heart, making her blood sing. Yaz moaned softly and that spurred her on, allowing only a momentary pause to catch her breath before she felt Yaz’s mouth open and welcome her inside. Yaz was a fantastic kisser, Jules decided, and that was all she could really think about for several minutes. Her thoughts were finally quiet, her mind and body in tune and focused on one thing and one thing only. 

It was better than any high Jules had ever known or chased. Kissing Yaz was like scoring the winning goal over and over again and Jules relished the endorphins as she explored Yaz’s mouth with her tongue. She realised with a start that she wanted Yaz to do that to her; to take control and dominate her, which was something she’d only ever let River do and even then, she’d never let River get that close. But Yaz...she wanted to get as close as humanly possible. To become acquainted with every cell of her being, to feel every inch of her skin, to know her inside and out. To bare herself to this woman and feel what it was like to truly be understood by someone else.

Eventually the need for oxygen won out and she pulled away, not quite as breathless as she’d been on the pitch but a hell of a lot more turned on. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for months,” she admitted, guiding Yaz backwards to the nearest wall without thinking. Her hands came to rest on Yaz’s hips and she resisted the urge to kiss her again when she felt the shape of her. But it was getting harder and harder to think, and easier to listen to the side of her brain that was screaming for more.

“Don’t remind me,” Yaz groaned, panting. The sound did something to Jules and the feel of Yaz’s curves underneath such a flimsy layer of material prompted her to move her hand south, inching along the hem of the towel. 

“Wait,” Yaz gasped, scandalised. “Here?”

The surprise in her tone made Jules want to tease her even further. This dynamic was not new - they’d been sending flirty messages for weeks - but it was much more fun in person.

“Well you're already basically naked. All I’d need to do is just…”

She looked at Yaz, wondering how far she could push it. She knew it would be foolish to rush things but it was getting harder to keep a level head when she could feel Yaz breathe against her so distractingly. Especially when she felt the softness of her thigh, which was warm and toned against her fingertips.

Before she could challenge Yaz any further, the sound of approaching footsteps alerted her that they were about to have company. She took a step back just as Clara entered the room, then moved back to her bag as she tried to get her breathing under control. Without thinking she shoved a t-shirt over her head. It was inside out but it would do for the journey back to the hotel. 

“Don’t mind me, I just forgot my towel,” Clara announced to the room. Jules barely acknowledged her and Yaz remained quiet, too, as Clara folded the item in question painfully slowly. She looked between them, frowning. “You guys are awfully quiet. Did I interrupt something?”

“Yes,” Yaz replied, just as Jules replied in the negative. She wasn’t sure why her first instinct was to deny it when it was patently obvious they’d been up to something. And judging by the way Clara winked at Yaz, she knew the nature of what they’d been doing. Jules wondered if her own face gave the game away. She was sure her cheeks were bright pink.

“Alright, well I’ll just...leave you to it.” Jules breathed a sigh of relief when Clara finally took the hint and left, but just at the door she reminded them of their social commitments for the evening. Yaz looked like she was making an active effort to pull herself together but Jules wondered how on earth she was going to sit through the next few hours and maintain any sense of sanity. In a way, though, she was relieved that Clara had interrupted them. It was clear that she’d need to work on her sense of self-control around Yaz and what better time than to sit through several hours of dinner and drinks? The reward would be worth the wait.

“Your hearing is insanely good,” Yaz sighed.

“So I’ve heard,” Jules agreed, unable to resist a pun. “Probably for the best, though. I got a bit carried away.” 

“You and me both. I can see why, though. You've been wanting to do that for months?" Yaz asked. She seemed genuinely curious but also more than happy to call Jules out on her admission. And Jules’s self-control was apparently still elusive because she admitted something she hadn’t planned to.

"From the moment I first saw you."

She heard the hitch in breath she was hoping for and leaned in, her voice low. Once again, she had the upper hand; she’d caught Yaz off guard. She recalled one of the texts she’d sent Yaz when they’d tried and failed to meet before Berlin. She’d been none too subtle about where she hoped things were leading but at least Yaz had been thinking along the same lines, too.

“I meant what I said, Yaz. I can take my time. I’m in no hurry.”

The soft skin of Yaz’s cheek was tantalisingly close and Jules let her lips linger there, trying to convey just how earnestly she meant the words. Then, she left without a backwards glance, planning her next move. The evening lay ahead of them like an obstacle course and Jules needed to calculate just how to navigate it. 

* * *

What Jules hadn't accounted for was the outfit Yaz would be wearing on their night out. When she first saw Yaz emerge wearing the dress - which fitted her perfectly and showed much more of her legs than their football shorts normally allowed - Jules did a double take. But rather than acknowledge her presence, Yaz had simply walked out and into a waiting taxi with Bill and a couple of other teammates. Jules wondered if she really had the upper hand at all, or if Yaz was just letting her think she did. She couldn't keep the grin from her face on the journey to dinner and she didn't even try to. 

But after an hour or so of mindless conversation, during which time many of the women surrounding her had started on their second huge stein of German beer, Jules was still stone-cold sober and starting to wish proceedings would hurry up a little. Even though Yaz's dress was largely hidden from view, Jules could still picture it clearly. It had definitely made an impact.

“Just need to…” Jules got to her feet abruptly, grateful that her friends were too preoccupied chatting to really notice her lack of explanation. A trip to the bathroom would give her the perfect opportunity to check in with Yaz and let her know just how much she appreciated what she was wearing.

As she neared Yaz’s chair she overheard snippets of conversation but she paid them no mind; only Rose seemed to notice her approach but she said nothing as Jules zeroed in on Yaz’s chair. In a calculated move, she leaned in just enough to make Yaz aware of her presence. The scent of Yaz’s perfume infiltrated her senses but Jules was determined to make her mark and she ignored the smooth skin of Yaz’s bare shoulders and the gentle slope of her neck to speak directly into Yaz’s ear. 

“Nice dress,” she murmured, and then she pulled back, walking away before Yaz could respond. She didn’t need to linger to know that she’d had an effect but for good measure she added a little extra swagger to her step as she headed to the bathroom. She could practically feel Yaz staring at her as she went. 

_Mission accomplished._

Of course, when the long, protracted affair of dinner finally drew to a close, Jules had the perfect excuse to talk to Yaz. They hadn’t been seated next to one another but nothing would stop them walking to the bar together, and Jules leaped at the opportunity for a brief few moments alone. 

Martha, Clara, and Rose all turned to watch as she neared and she cursed internally. So much for keeping things quiet. It was only a matter of time before she and Yaz made their departure together, though. Before the others would know exactly what was going on between them. 

“Ignore them,” Jules said, giving into temptation and letting her hand come to rest on Yaz’s lower back. Her skin felt warm against her palm and Jules realised she might have made a misstep because it was now going to be very hard to keep her hands away for the rest of the evening. So, when she guided Yaz into her coat, she smoothed the material down, skimming her hands over Yaz’s hips through the safety of material. And when they brought up the rear of the group, it took only seconds for Jules to snag hold of Yaz’s hand. She needed the contact to sustain her for the next hour or so, until they could reasonably make an escape. She kept talking mindlessly but her mind was fixed on how Yaz’s hand felt in her own. She wondered if she might have floated away without Yaz to anchor her. 

It was with great reluctance that she let go of Yaz’s hand as they arrived at the bar. Donna was already causing mischief and Jules knew she’d have to intervene before she was kicked out, which would potentially derail her plans for the evening. It also meant that, once Donna and the bouncer were appeased, she was free to be pulled and pushed into several different conversations. She joined them with genuine enthusiasm - she hadn’t properly spoken to many of her teammates in several weeks, after all - but when she was finally released from the last group, she scoped out the room. To her relief, she’d talked to nearly everybody there, even if only briefly, and she knew her social obligations had been fulfilled. Yaz was still sitting where she’d left her, talking to Clara; when a slow song started, Jules knew precisely what she wanted to do. If they were going to leave together, if people were going to notice, she wanted to knock any speculation on the head. 

Also, she really, really wanted to dance with Yaz. 

Clara grinned as she approached, as if she knew what Jules was about to do. 

“Dance with me.” Jules held out her hand and instantly felt the stares of several pairs of eyes on her. If she’d been as drunk as the others, the sudden flutter of nerves she experienced in that exact moment would have been enough to sober her up. Yaz hesitated for just long enough that Jules wondered if she’d actually decline the suggestion. The gesture was symbolic, but sooner or later they’d have to explain to everyone in that room what was going on. Jules had learned from experience that secrets were impossible to keep in their circle of friends, and there was no time like the present. She wanted to clear the way for them to make an escape.

“I don't know if that's a good idea,” Yaz eventually replied. “There’s no dance floor, for a start.”

Jules easily countered her argument. She could see that Yaz was uncertain but one of them needed to lead and Jules wanted it to be her. She would protect Yaz from the fallout.

“Yaz, you once told me to stop overthinking things. We can make our own dance floor. Come on. Come with me.” 

Jules tried to keep her expression neutral but with each passing second, she felt her nerve falter. 

_Please, Yaz._

To her immense relief, Yaz got up and Jules grinned at the cheer that went up behind her. She saw Donna drunkenly firing finger guns at them and winked in response, and then she turned her back on the others and led Yaz across the room, away from them and to a space of their own. They’d get bored of watching eventually and she hoped that she and Yaz could easily slip away into the night once that happened.

Before Yaz could say another word, Jules gently pulled her close, the crisp material of her shirt pressing against Yaz’s dress. They’d been this close in the locker room but even though they were wearing more clothes and had an audience, this somehow felt even more intimate. It was probably something to do with the way that Yaz was looking at her so softly, her mouth open slightly in surprise. Then she tilted her head to one side and let her arms come to rest on Jules’s shoulders, and that gave Jules all the permission she needed to return the hold and bring her hands to rest on the dip at the base of Yaz’s back. 

“We fit,” Jules remarked. One one level, she wasn’t really surprised that she and Yaz moulded together so well, like two missing pieces of a puzzle. For a moment, she recalled the last time she’d danced with somebody. It had been River, on that fateful night that Yaz had taken too many shots. She tried not to compare and contrast them because it wasn’t fair but it was hard not to notice just how different this felt. How different she felt. It was like she’d finally screwed her head on. Every touch, every breath was coordinated and comfortable, not a desperate attempt for distraction. Jules wanted to remember every second of this, to live in the moment and make it last for as long as she could.

Jules started to move. She trusted her feet much as she would on the pitch, which meant she could watch Yaz’s face instead. And what a face it was. Jules traced the curve of her jaw and the outline of her lips, and quickly moved on for fear that she’d want to kiss them in full view of everybody. There were limits to how much she wanted to share and she didn’t want to embarrass Yaz, either, so instead she memorised the pressure of her arms around her neck. After a few moments, Yaz started to relax into the movement and Jules felt the tension leave her own body as they continued to dance. She had no idea how long they danced for, but she knew it would never be long enough. This moment would have to end at some point, but she hoped that what would follow would be just as memorable. 

Now was the time for honesty, Jules realised. Just as she’d laid bare her feelings towards Yaz in front of their friends, she wanted Yaz to know a little about how she felt. She was owed that much.

“You've driven me insane, Yaz, in the best way. I’ve not been able to take my eyes off you all evening."

As if by magic, the song changed to something even slower. Jules briefly wondered if Donna had requested it.

"But it’s not just tonight," she continued. "I think you do it permanently. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Jules could feel her heart pounding so hard that she was almost certain that Yaz could see it if it weren’t for the fact that she was staring at Jules’s lips.

“The feeling’s mutual,” Yaz replied, and Jules couldn’t hold back any longer. She ran her hand up the bare skin of Yaz’s back, her fingers spanning the space between her shoulder blades as she dipped her head, swerving to one side to meet Yaz’s ear, rather than her mouth. 

“God, Yaz. You feel incredible. I can’t stop touching you.”

Her hand moved of its own accord back to the dip of Yaz’s lower back and Jules sighed as she felt Yaz shiver against her. She was playing with fire, she knew she was, but she simply could not stop and didn't want to.

“As good as you look in this shirt, I wish I could feel you,” Yaz replied, and Jules tried to ignore just how much she enjoyed the feel of Yaz playing with her hair. It felt like all of her senses were turned up to 11 but she didn’t fail to notice that the lights had been dimmed.

“Good things come to those who wait.” She took advantage of the scarce privacy afforded to them by the change in lighting and gave in to temptation, pressing her lips to a patch of skin under Yaz’s ear. She moved away seconds later, delighted by Yaz’s gasp. 

“You’re doing that deliberately,” Yaz grumbled, her arms tightening around Jules’s neck.

“What’s that?” Jules grinned, knowing the answer but wanting to hear Yaz say the words.

“Winding me up.”

Any space between them was removed entirely when Jules pulled Yaz close again. They’d stopped dancing, the pretence abandoned in view of the obvious arousal they’d cultivated. Jules forgot to breathe for a second when she felt Yaz’s breasts press up against her own and she knew she was utterly screwed. They’d reached a point of no return and Jules wanted to cross it more than anything. They had only one obstacle left and they'd danced around it for long enough.

“Want to get out of here?” 


	30. Home (E)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Jules is a sappy git. Someone commented that way back and they were spot on hahaha. It's always the tough ones who need a little extra love :)
> 
> After this we are onto the rest of their story! I hope you're ready for it....

“These damn things never work,” Jules cursed as she flipped the card upside down, swiping it more slowly through the lock. The red light blinked angrily at her and her frustration mounted. She'd done well to get them both to this point but it was inevitable she'd fluff something eventually and in this instance, she was stumped by a bog-standard hotel room door. Going back down to reception to reset the key right at this moment was definitely not an option and Jules fumbled with the lock again, relieved when the door finally yielded to her desperate request for entry.

The room was silent - it was late, and there was only the distant sound of traffic outside. It was as neat and tidy as it had been when she'd first entered it, which wasn't surprising given how little time she'd spent in it. Jules eyed the crisp sheets on the bed, wondering just how crumpled they'd be by the end of the evening. But first things first, she'd have to remove her shoes before they got anywhere near them.

As she did so, Yaz kicked off her heels in relief. Jules was a little disappointed not to help her out of them and she blamed River for cultivating a soft spot for women in heels. But their normal height difference was restored, which Jules enjoyed, and she consoled herself with the fact that she could at least help Yaz out of her clothes instead. 

After a brief awkward moment when they talked over one another, Jules got her wish. 

“I was about to say, would you like some help with your dress?” Jules shoved her hands in her pockets, as if to show she could restrain herself should Yaz decline her offer. Thankfully, Yaz did not.

“Yes, please.” 

“As much as I wish you could stay in this all night, it’s really just going to get in my way," Jules acknowledged. She really did like that dress and she wondered if she'd ever get to see Yaz in it again. 

But the moment her fingers loosened the material holding everything together, Yaz stiffened and her hands grasped Jules's sides. Jules immediately knew what she was thinking; she felt surprisingly nervous herself. After all, there had been a lot of build-up to this point.

“We really don’t have to do anything,” she insisted, when Yaz divulged just how nervous she was. But Yaz had been adamant. 

Jules took a breath, eyes fixed on Yaz’s face. 

“You ready?”

Yaz nodded and Jules brought the material down past Yaz’s shoulders, exposing her to the room. She made a concerted effort to check in and caught a shaky exhale as Yaz lifted her chin. It was always a little strange to undress around a stranger for the first time but they weren’t strangers. If anything, removing her clothes would just be a formality to Jules because she felt more exposed to Yaz than she had been to any other person. She’d let her get closer than anyone else.

Jules bit her lip as she let her eyes drift south. She had imagined what this moment would be like and she didn’t want to rush, but she was momentarily speechless at the sight that greeted her.

“You are an absolute marvel, Yasmin Khan,” she murmured, the words tumbling out unbidden as she stared at the soft curve of her breasts, the smoothness of her skin. The low light of the room cast her in shadow and Jules longed to touch Yaz more than anything, but she could still sense some lingering anxiety and she laughed as Yaz joked about her being a charmer. She had meant every word - Yaz was the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen, without a doubt - but it was sometimes safer to hide behind the facade, even if Yaz had figured her out. Right now, it was a facade she embraced because all of a sudden she was worried about what Yaz would make of her. 

She flapped with her own clothes, wishing she’d chosen something less form-fitting because in retrospect the material hindered any attempt at suavity.

“Stop moving,” Yaz giggled as she stepped in to help.

“Easy for you to say, Yaz. I’ve never wanted to be naked so much in my life.”

“Here,” Yaz replied, helping with the sleeves and throwing the shirt to the floor. Jules didn’t give it a second glance; they were too far gone to care about the state of their clothes come morning. “Hold onto my shoulders and I’ll deal with your jeans.”

Jules held her breath as Yaz yanked on her jeans, especially when she saw how close Yaz’s face was to the juncture of her thighs. The moment her legs were freed, Jules kicked the offending material to one side, already reaching for her bra. Apparently her attempts at physio weren’t all that good because the instant she reached for it, her shoulder twinged.

“C’mere.” Yaz could sense her difficulties instantly but didn’t push her on it. Jules wasn’t going to let a dodgy shoulder impede her now, especially given the circumstances of the injury. But she easily pushed thoughts of Missy to one side when she saw just how Yaz was looking at her bare chest, and then she brought their mouths together again like it was inevitable. It had been too long since she’d last kissed Yaz and they had more important things to be getting on with, made even more apparent when their bare skin finally pressed together. Yaz felt warm and soft against her and Jules sighed happily as she moved her back towards the bed, guiding her onto it before she reached for the hair tie around her wrist. She didn’t want to stop for anything and her hair was now long enough that it was going to get in the way.

Yaz stared at her as she pulled her hair back, apparently waiting for Jules to make her move. That suited Jules just fine and without pausing, she encouraged Yaz to move up the bed, delighted when she offered no resistance and instead ran her hands down Jules’s braced arms. In that moment, Jules felt so powerful and so in control that any final nerves dissipated entirely, replaced by a swell of emotion that she couldn’t quite describe. And while Yaz removed the final barrier between them - her underwear - Jules couldn’t tear her gaze away from her face.

“You’re so beautiful.” 

Again, the words fell from her lips without her even having to think of them but as she watched them register, Jules could have sworn that Yaz started glowing with the recognition. She took that as a sign to move a careful hand between them, skimming up Yaz’s thigh much as she had in the locker room, but this time she kept moving higher, moving directly between her legs and into wet heat. 

Jules had to bite back a sigh at just how wet Yaz was. She was almost certain she was in a similar state but when she saw how tightly Yaz was gripping the sheets, she couldn’t help herself.

“Fuck, you're soaked.” 

“And you're cocky when it comes to this,” Yaz panted as she looked down to where Jules was touching her. Jules stroked her more firmly and Yaz threw her head back, mouth falling open in a wordless cry. 

It was just the ego boost Jules needed. More than anything she wanted Yaz to feel good, and with every pass of her fingers she seemed to be working closer to that goal. Still, she wanted to hear Yaz; she was trying to stay quiet but Jules needed to hear her. 

“For good reason. Is that a complaint?”

“Only if you don't hurry up and fuck me already,” Yaz gasped, and Jules chuckled at her bluntness. 

“I'm just really, really turned on,” Yaz admitted, embarrassed. “Have been since the locker room.”

“I can tell. My hand is between your legs, remember."

Jules couldn’t resist teasing her but she wanted Yaz to open her eyes for the next part. She wanted to watch her face that first time. 

“Jules, if you don’t-” Yaz threatened, the use of her name working like a charm as she glared at Jules in frustration. Jules finally eased inside, watching Yaz’s expression like a hawk even as she struggled to concentrate; there was so much to take in in that moment, the sights and the sounds and most of all the feel of Yaz, that she was glad for a pause in proceedings while Yaz adjusted to her. 

“Oh….oh,” Yaz breathed, the sound almost gravelly. Her eyes looked so dark that Jules thought she might drown in their depths. 

“Better?” she asked, waiting for Yaz’s assent before she captured her lips in a gentle kiss that mirrored the movements of her hand. When Yaz moaned into her mouth she added another finger, feeling the warmth tighten around her as she started to curl her fingers harder. 

When Yaz arched into her, the soft feel of her breasts served as a reminder that she’d yet to touch them properly and her mouth wandered downwards, eager to explore. She could taste the slight saltiness of sweat on Yaz’s skin and she hungered for more, drawing one of her nipples into her mouth and flicking it with her tongue. 

When she grazed it with her teeth, Yaz made a strangled sound. Jules glanced up to see that she was biting the side of her hand to try and keep quiet. The sight of that alone was enough to send her arousal skyrocketing even higher, but she wanted to hear Yaz. She craved the sounds she made when it was just the two of them, alone. She needed to hear how Yaz felt, how Jules was making her feel. 

“That’s it, Yaz. Don’t be shy. Let me hear you.”

As Yaz’s hand fell away, Jules rubbed the heel of her hand more firmly against her clit, picking up the pace. Already she was slightly breathless but there was no way she was going to stop when Yaz was making such incredible sounds. 

“You feel so fucking good, you know that?” she encouraged. But the moment she spoke, Yaz stiffened.

“Oh god. Stop.”

Jules froze. _Shit_. Maybe she should keep her mouth shut. Maybe she’d pushed too hard. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked, trying to stay calm. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt Yaz.

“I just need a sec.” Yaz opened her eyes and they took a moment to focus; she looked more blissed out than pained and Jules realised what had happened when a dopey grin tugged at her lips. 

“Did you come?” Jules grinned. She was surprised it had happened so fast and slightly gutted to have missed it. But that was okay. The night was still young. Perhaps she could let the cocky persona slide now that Yaz had shown her just how much she’d enjoyed herself.

“Might've." 

Yaz looked embarrassed and hid her face behind her hands while Jules tried to reassure her that it was nothing but complimentary. 

“I feel like you've just set the bar ridiculously high,” Yaz admitted, but Jules was having none of it. 

She took the moment’s rest to remove her own underwear - she was ridiculously wet, as she’d already guessed - and when Yaz chewed on her lip, still apparently mortified, Jules knew she could reassure her in other ways. 

“Don’t worry, I don’t think it’ll take much,” she confessed. The evidence of her arousal would surely put Yaz’s mind at ease. “Feel.”

Without hesitation she reached for Yaz’s hand and guided it between her own legs. The moment they made contact she knew she wasn’t going to last long, either. She guided them carefully, her touch light as she let Yaz feel just how turned on she was.

“See?” She was startled to hear the word come out as a moan. "That's what you do to me."

She abandoned any pretence of control as she fell back to the bed, letting Yaz lead.

“Those sounds you made were just incredible,” Jules sighed as Yaz started to circle her clit, her nerves quickly falling by the wayside as she gained in confidence. In the end it took no time at all for Yaz to bring her off, and Jules felt any sense of self-control evaporate as she felt her climax nearing. When Yaz moved her mouth to her chest, she was done for.

“Don't stop doing that," Jules panted, reaching blindly for something to hold on to. She’d never lost control quite so badly but she found she did not care when it was Yaz who was responsible; the emotional connection she felt in that moment was so intense that it amplified everything. She came suddenly, loudly, barely conscious of anything but the feel of Yaz pressed against her. She draped an arm over her eyes, struggling to catch her breath.

It didn’t take her long to recover, though. She really did have plans for Yaz and once she’d regained her senses, she knew precisely what she wanted to do. The first taste of Yaz against her tongue confirmed she’d made the right decision and she opened her mouth wide, ignoring the ache in her jaw as she licked up and into her. She was certain she could do this forever and she took her time, listening to every moan and sigh, feeling the quiver of muscle beneath her hands. 

When she replaced her tongue with her fingers, this time she knew just what to do. She was a quick learner and she didn’t want this one to catch her by surprise; she wanted to wind Yaz up as high as she could and watch as she toppled over the edge.

This time she saw the moment it happened, the way that Yaz’s face opened up, out of her control. Jules finally got to see Yaz completely uninhibited and she savoured every second of it: the way her back arched so beautifully, the sound she made as she tightened around Jules’s fingers, the pressure of her thighs as they clamped hard against Jules’s ears.

The pressure around her head eventually eased but Yaz was still senseless, breathing like she’d just run the full length of the pitch. Jules was still awed, humbled by what had just happened, and by the looks of things, Yaz was also completely taken aback. Jules took a detour via the en suite to grab a damp cloth. 

The moment she passed it over the skin of her inner thighs, Yaz shivered. 

“It’s ok,” Jules murmured, trying to calm her. 

“Oh,” Yaz mumbled, her head falling back to the pillows. Jules abandoned her task when she was satisfied that Yaz would be more comfortable, tugging the duvet down and over her and joining her shortly afterwards. As good as sex was, this was the part Jules had looked forward to just as much, mainly because she so rarely did it. She never let herself.

“Come here,” she said, encouraging Yaz into her arms. They fit together as easily as they had on the dance floor and Jules felt her heart swell until it felt like it had doubled.

“Just need a min,” Yaz yawned, and Jules bit back a yawn of her own, even as she marvelled at Yaz’s vulnerability. She wanted to let Yaz fall asleep first, make sure she was alright. 

“And then some,” she chuckled as she kissed the top of Yaz’s head. “Good to know I’ve still got it.” 

She regretted the crude sentiment almost as soon as she’d uttered it - the words came out of habit, she knew that much, but Yaz didn’t seem to mind or even notice; she exhaled heavily against her neck and then her breathing evened out in sleep, a rhythm that lulled Jules into her own so easily that she couldn’t have resisted it even if she’d wanted to.

* * *

Except her mind had other ideas. 

Jules might have happily fallen into sleep with Yaz in her arms, but it didn’t take long for her thoughts to take a darker turn, as they often did when she was defenceless. 

There was no explosion but that didn’t quite explain the violent sound that woke her up with a jolt, senses on high alert. Her ears were still ringing with it, she could have sworn, even though the only sound in the room was that of Yaz’s breathing and her own, harsher, breaths mixed in with the occasional sound of a passing car from outside. 

Jules could feel herself sweating but Yaz had moved away a little in her sleep; it wasn’t the heat of her companion that had made her this warm. This was a different kind of heat, the panicked kind that normally accompanied her nightmares, and she knew it only too well.

Jules ran a shaky hand through her hair, which was still half-tied and now a complete mess. She let it down, running her fingers through it as she tried to calm her breaths. She looked over at Yaz. She hadn’t moved since Jules had awoken, which was one good thing; the nightmares hadn’t disrupted both of their sleep, at least. Jules cursed quietly. She hadn’t even thought this would happen but of course it would. And before long, Yaz would find out.

She gingerly swung her legs out of bed, debating a shower and then ruling it out when she realised it would probably wake Yaz. In the dark, she felt around for her suitcase and pulled out an oversized hoodie, underwear, and some baggy jeans, slipping them on and sliding open the balcony door to get some fresh air. 

In her dream, she knew Yaz had been in the truck when it had blown up. She braced herself on the railing, trying to count her breaths and steady herself. The visual was hard to shake but the bitter cold was helping ground her, reminding her where she was. She was in Berlin. She was in a hotel. Yaz was inside. The thought of Yaz safely tucked up in bed helped her relax and she resisted the urge to turn and double check; instead, she forced herself to look up and out into the quiet streets, to trust her own memory and forget the dream, as vivid as it had been. 

They were high enough up that she could just about make out the dome of the Reichstag, still lit up. She had no idea what time it was but it was dark and that was reassuring, in a way. In the morning, several hours from now, this would feel like a distant memory. In the morning, she would wake up with Yaz and the day would be theirs for the taking. She took solace in that thought. She’d try and protect Yaz from these facets of herself, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t give herself in other ways. Maybe, eventually, they’d get there but that felt a long way off right now. She wanted them to learn one another properly, without all of the baggage that came with getting to know someone. Not just yet, anyway. 

But being around Yaz had quietened the noise in her mind for just long enough that Jules had started to actually act more like herself and stop thinking so much about how she came across. Once upon a time, that would have not been an appealing prospect but becoming more comfortable around Yaz also meant she was becoming more comfortable with herself and the person that life events had shaped her into. She had Yaz to thank for that. Nobody looked at her the way Yaz did, and Jules allowed herself the thought that maybe Yaz liked her for who she was, not for the persona she could see through so easily. Perhaps Yaz wouldn’t be scared away as easily as she feared.

Jules was so lost in thought that the sound of the door opening spooked her. It was almost as if Yaz knew Jules was thinking about her because she emerged from the darkness of the room, wrapped in a sheet and squinting at the artificial glare of the streetlights. 

“Sorry, Yaz. Did I wake you?” Jules could hear the tremor in her voice but Yaz apparently didn’t notice, walking over and hugging her from behind. Nobody had ever done that before and it took Jules a second to realise that she liked it. She leaned back into the contact, relishing it. This night was full of surprises.

“No, don’t worry. What are you doing out here? Other than trying to turn into an icicle.”

 _Ah_. Jules wasn’t quite ready to answer that question truthfully, especially with her dream so fresh in her mind. She went for a non-answer, hoping it would suffice. 

“Berlin looks magical at night, doesn’t it? A lot of cities do when they’re this quiet.” 

“That may be, but I'm sure it could look magical from behind the glass. It’s freezing. Come back to bed.”

Yaz was clearly trying to get her inside and Jules debated pushing back but once she’d mentioned the temperature, Jules realised just how cold it was. Yaz was shivering and Jules had a feeling she’d wait out there until Jules was ready to come in. That wouldn't do.

“Alright.”

On the plus side, returning indoors also meant that she could get back into bed with one very naked Yasmin Khan. A very naked Yasmin Khan who pulled her close and warmed her chilled skin with her own. Jules wondered why she’d ever hesitated to come back to bed and soaked up the affection readily.

“Think you can get some more sleep?” Yaz asked. She’d started drawing circles on Jules’s bare shoulder and the effect was hypnotic. 

“Yeah, I think so. Just a bad dream,” she admitted. The confession prompted Yaz to move a hand to her hair, stroking through it. 

“I'm sorry.”

“No need to say sorry, Yaz. I'm glad you're here.”

Yaz laughed.

“Oh, god. Remember that text I sent you? “Wish you were here”?”

“Yeah,” Jules could remember that evening so well it was like it had happened yesterday. “I wanted to say the exact same thing. But you were asleep, and I didn't want to wake you.”

“I'm just glad you're here now,” Yaz replied, simply. 

Jules shifted so that her face was pressed against Yaz’s chest, her arm wrapped securely around her waist. She felt safe, but still shaken by her dream and the thoughts it had provoked. They had so much to play for, now, and it hadn’t occurred to her just how badly she wanted them to win. 

“I'm scared, Yaz.”

“You don't strike me as someone who scares easily.”

“I'm not. This just feels different to anything else. Everything else.”

To her relief, Yaz seemed to know exactly what she meant. 

“We're in this together, Jules. I’m with you. Whatever happens.”

“Yeah?” Jules looked up, moved by the sentiment. Yaz tilted her head and regarded her so softly that Jules almost looked away, unused to such honest affection. 

“Yeah, of course. I’m not going anywhere. Except...maybe….”

Yaz shifted, encouraging Jules onto her back. 

“There’s somewhere I’d really like to go right now.”

“Oh?” Jules murmured, seeing the glint in Yaz’s eye and knowing full well what she was up to as she started smearing hot kisses against the taut skin of her stomach. 

“Watch.”

Yaz was challenging her yet again but this bossiness was a bit different to her attitude on the pitch and Jules swallowed hard when Yaz swiftly pulled her underwear down her legs, resisting the urge to press them together when she felt a warm breath ghost over the wetness residing there. 

“Keep your eyes on me,” Yaz raised an eyebrow as she met Jules’s gaze, smirking at the moan that she provoked when she licked the length of her. 

Wherever this had come from, Jules wasn’t complaining, but she also knew she was going to struggle to keep her eyes open if Yaz kept doing _that_ with her tongue. 

It was even harder when she felt fingers press eagerly at her entrance, guided inside by a fresh rush of arousal that Yaz eagerly licked up, her tongue flashing pink and dangerous as Jules struggled to focus.

A warm, confident palm flattened itself against her stomach, keeping her in place as Yaz started to move inside her, watching wickedly as she did all sorts of clever, marvellous things with her mouth that Jules had never witnessed before. It was intense to say the least but Jules didn’t tear her eyes away. She wanted to make herself as vulnerable as Yaz had done; to let Yaz own her and watch her come apart.

Cautiously, she reached down to rest her hand on the back of Yaz’s head and Yaz brought her own hand up briefly to rest on top of it, encouraging her to guide her. Jules needed no further invitation and she let her fingers tangle, gripping only slightly and grinning when she felt Yaz moan against her at the tug.

“You like that?” she breathed, tugging gently and Yaz almost lost it, her eyes fluttering dangerously. 

“You cheat,” Yaz panted, pulling away only briefly. She returned to her task with even more vigour than before, her enthusiasm matched only by the sounds she made with her mouth as she ate Jules out relentlessly. 

The renewed attack caught Jules unprepared, and she scrambled to keep up with Yaz’s pace as she drove her fingers with unnerving precision, the softness of her lips and tongue proving the perfect counterpoint to the pressure inside of her. Jules knew she was going to lose and when she focused on Yaz’s face one last time, the look in her eyes was enough to send her spiralling, her eyes slamming shut as her grip tightened and she arched against Yaz’s mouth, breath caught in her lungs as she felt the wave crash over her. 

Much like it had Yaz earlier, it left her boneless and panting against the sheets. 

There were butterfly kisses on her stomach, under her breast, but they were gentle kisses, designed to soothe rather than turn her on. She appreciated each and every one that Yaz bestowed on her.

“What was that you said earlier? Still got it?” Yaz finally sat up and smirked as she fixed her hair. She shuffled back up the bed, within arm’s reach.

Jules weakly shoved the closest limb available, which happened to be Yaz’s leg, and groaned at the memory. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she protested. 

“It’s ok,” Yaz smiled, tucking some of Jules’s hair behind her ear. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“What’s that then?”

“That beneath this cool, tough exterior, you’re just a big sap.”

Jules was once again astounded by just how well Yaz could read her. She opted not to reply, which was a reply in itself; instead, she tugged Yaz to her, wrapping her in a bear hug that Yaz only mildly protested. 

“You bring out the best in me. And I mean more than just orgasms.”

Yaz giggled and the sound made Jules feel like she was floating. Yaz tended to have that effect on her. It was the lightest she’d felt in years. 

“Well now that I’ve given you another, do you think you can sleep?”

Jules answered with a stifled yawn. A glance at the clock informed her that they only had a couple of hours until the alarm would go off, but after a night as memorable as the one they’d just had, they really would need some sleep if they were to survive the journey home. 

“That’s what I thought. Keep that strength up for me, hey? I’d like a repeat performance when we get home.”

 _Home_. Jules looked at the woman in her arms and realised she might already have made it there.


	31. Home (II)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've made it onto new ground! Hold onto your hats cos this is gonna get bumpy ;) and that's all I'm gonna say about that...
> 
> This is a little bit shorter than other chapters but I hadn't written them in so long that I needed to ease back into it - I hope you enjoy!

Even though they’d barely fallen asleep, Jules still woke up before the alarm. It was disorientating at first because her dreams had been non-existent, and because the curtains were so heavy that the room was pitch black. Jules could only tell that it was still early because she felt nearly hungover with exhaustion but it didn’t take long for her surroundings to make sense when she realised she was naked.

She tried to stifle a yawn as she turned to look at Yaz, who was still asleep. She was facing inwards and as Jules’s eyes started to adjust to the gloom, she could start to make out Yaz’s features. The shape of her body was barely discernible under the duvet and although Jules wished she could feel her, she didn’t want to deprive Yaz of any more sleep. She’d done enough of that already, although her nightmares felt like a distant memory now, all thanks to the woman in her bed.

She still couldn’t quite believe what had happened but when Yaz sighed in her sleep and turned away, Jules realised that not only was Yasmin Khan in her bed, but that Yasmin Khan might also wake up and find Jules staring at her. She didn’t want to freak her out so she lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling and revisiting the events of the previous evening. 

The dance with Yaz. 

The first time she’d seen Yaz naked. 

The way Yaz looked when she came. 

The visual of Yaz between her legs was almost too much and Jules shook her head, trying to dispel the images before she wound herself up even further. 

Her phone was on the bedside table and Jules unlocked it, shielding it as best she could as it cast a garish light into the room. It was still alive, barely; she’d neglected to charge it when she’d returned from the bar because she had far more important things to worry about, and had only barely remembered to set an alarm before passing out, not even thinking about the fact that her phone might actually die in the interim. 

Jules had to laugh at her lack of foresight but she gave herself a pass when she recalled just why she was so distracted. As if on cue, Yaz shifted again and Jules held her breath until she heard the telltale sound of Yaz’s slow, soft breathing. 

Assured that Yaz was still asleep, she squinted her eyes as she scrolled through the messages, surprised to see a text from Bill comprising a smiley face and a thumbs up. That was a relief, and she hoped that going forward there’d be no awkwardness, so she replied with a thumbs up and a smiley face of her own. She didn’t really know what else to say but the least she could do was acknowledge that she appreciated the sentiment.

She opted to ignore the team Whatsapp chat and grinned fully when she saw how drunk Donna had been - her messages to Jules had steadily deteriorated in quality as the evening had worn on and she’d only stopped sending them an hour ago. The flight home was going to be interesting to say the least and Jules knew she should take some responsibility towards getting her team ready on time, but there was no way she wanted to get up yet. 

She texted Graham, hopeful that he’d been a bit more restrained than the rest of their team had apparently been. She knew the odds were slim because the last time she’d seen him, he’d been trying to show one of the German coaches something he called a soft-shoe shuffle and she’d left him to it, eager to catch up with Yaz and make their escape. 

_ Graham, are you alive?  _

It didn’t take long for him to reply, to Jules’s surprise. But her hopes were dashed when she saw his message. 

_ Barely. Never let me drink again, Doc. _

Jules grimaced. Perhaps this was going to be harder than she’d thought. But then Yaz made a noise in her sleep and Jules grinned, forgetting what she was meant to be doing for a few long moments. She was relieved she hadn’t drunk much at all because she knew only too well what the morning after a heavy social was like, never mind a social abroad. Today, though, they had to go home, back to the everyday mundanity of their day jobs and responsibilities, and back to reality with a bump. But Jules knew things would be a little different this time: yes, she would be returning to Sheffield, but her life had changed overnight. Rather than return to Earth, she felt like she was still circling it, sky high. Nothing was going to dampen her mood, not even her chaotic teammates.

_ Dare I ask if everyone made it back?  _ She asked Graham. 

_ I bloody hope so because we’re meeting downstairs in 2 hours.  _

Jules sighed. There was only one thing for it. She scrolled back to the team Whatsapp group, which had 47 unread messages, and took a deep breath before she started to assess the damage.

At 2:57am, one of their defenders had thrown up in the loos and been kicked out.

At 3:19am, someone had spotted Ryan Sinclair, the coach of the other team, pulling, and thought that everyone should know about it. 

At 4:20am, their goalie lost her wallet. 

Interspersed among the catalogue of minor disasters and gossip, someone had mentioned her name. She felt herself blushing as she read through the messages.

_ Where's Jules?  _

_ She scored, remember? With PC Khan _

_ Think she brought her handcuffs? _

_ Omg Yules! Make the Yuletide gay  _

_ As if they could get any gayer _

_ Jules and Yaz, sitting in a tree, F-U-C-K-I- _

Jules hurriedly scrolled past the flurry of messages to the bottom. She’d seen enough. Although she was mildly mortified by the attention to her personal life and the innuendos sprinkled through the conversation, she was relieved that nobody seemed to be antagonistic about her starting up something with another member of Bill’s team. The last thing she needed was more drama but judging from the messages, her team were nothing but supportive, even if they were openly talking about her in a group chat she was a member of. It was all part and parcel of being in the team, she knew, and they were the only people on the planet who could get away with it. She also suspected they were delighted to have new fodder for banter.

But supportive or not, she still needed her team to be ready to leave the hotel in the foreseeable future. She’d be remiss in her duties as team captain if any of them got left behind and judging by the messy evening she could piece together from their messages, that was a distinct possibility.

_ You guys better be awake…I’ll see you in the lobby at 11. _

Nothing. Jules wasn’t surprised in the slightest. 

Graham, meanwhile, was still messaging her. 

_ You have a good night Jules? I heard you left early. _

Jules wondered how much Graham knew. He was deliberately left out of the Whatsapp group - at his request - so he was often not privy to the team gossip, but Jules also knew that her dance with Yaz in the bar had drawn quite a lot of attention and that even if Graham had somehow missed that, someone would no doubt have filled him in. 

_ I did, yeah. I’ll get ready, see if I can get them up and moving. _

_ A little birdie told me that something’s going on with you and Yaz...is that right? _

Jules hesitated. Although her team were fine with things, Graham might have a different take - after all, he’d expressed concerns about Jules dating the captain of another team in case it caused a distraction. In many ways he was almost a fatherly figure to her because he always had her best interests at heart, but Jules knew he was also concerned about her potentially compromising the team’s success. He was their coach, after all. But that meant she should probably be honest and, besides, he’d find out before too long anyway. It was better if he found out from her.

_ Yeah. But I promise it’s not going to get in the way of anything. _

_ Jules, relax. I know how football mad you are. I’m actually glad you’re spending time with someone else, doing something that isn’t working or kicking a ball about.  _

Jules chewed her lip as she mulled over Graham’s message. She hadn’t thought about that, but the idea that her lifestyle might actually change with Yaz in it was an exciting prospect. As much as she loved football and work, she knew that something was missing. Would Yaz help fill that gap? 

_ Tell you what, I’m gonna make a coffee and go knocking, _ Graham messaged. _ Relax for a bit.  _

_ Really? _

_ Really. But I’d better get going, I’ve slowed right down. _

_ In your old age _

_ Oi! I’m doing you a favour! _

_ I know. Thanks Graham. I appreciate it.  _

_ You just worry about getting yourself down in time, alright? I know what it’s like. Young love and all that. _

Jules didn’t hesitate to send a vomiting emoji, but his mention of love made her heart speed up. She wasn’t ready to think about that just yet. 

_ Ok, I’m ending this discussion _

_ I mean it Jules. It's like Grace said, we care about you. I’m chuffed for you. Both of you. _

Before she could formulate a response, her alarm went off and she almost dropped the phone on her face in surprise as she fumbled to stop it. But she was too slow to silence it, and it was clearly too loud for Yaz to sleep through, even after only a couple of rings. 

“What?” Yaz mumbled, eyes barely open. She looked ridiculously cute when she was half awake, Jules realised.

“Sorry,” she grinned, unable to help herself. “I should have woken you up a bit better than that.”

“You don’t look too sorry,” Yaz mumbled, and then she shuffled across the gap, wrapping an arm around Jules’s stomach in a show of easy intimacy that left Jules speechless. She could feel every inch of Yaz pressed up against her, her skin soft and warm and bare against her own.

“I don't want to go home. I want to stay here all day. With you.”

Yaz was clearly still half asleep and struggling to wake up. Jules pressed a kiss to the top of her head as it rested on her shoulder. Maybe she wasn’t a morning person. Jules wondered what else she’d find out about Yaz by virtue of sharing a bed with her. 

“I know what you mean. But why don't we do that when we get home?” she suggested, suddenly taken by the idea. “Maybe next weekend?” 

She didn’t want to push her luck but she knew she wanted to see Yaz again as soon as humanly possible. The moment they left that hotel room, they’d be unable to spend time solely with one another until they touched down at the other end, and after that...well, that was to be determined. 

“Mmm,” Yaz hummed, and Jules sighed when she felt Yaz kiss her collarbone. “I think I'm working but let me see.”

It wasn’t much of an answer, but then Yaz’s breathing evened out to the point where she seemed to have drifted off again, and Jules realised she really did need to get up and get ready. It was a habit from her army days, and now her work - time management was ingrained in her and she hated being late. It was hard to tear herself away from Yaz, though, and the moment she slipped out of her grasp she regretted it. 

Jules was midway through brushing her teeth when she saw Yaz emerge, standing in the doorway to the bathroom and blinking blearily at the fluorescent light. Preoccupied as she was, Jules could do nothing but finish up as quickly as humanly possible while Yaz came up behind her and hugged her from behind. 

“You feel nice,” Yaz murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to her neck. Jules watched her in the mirror, wondering if this was all some fantastic illusion. This was almost too good to be true. But the arousal that flared to life was tangible and she sighed as Yaz continued to kiss along the column of her neck, her intention clear when her hands came up to cup Jules’s breasts. 

“How much time do we have?” Jules gasped.

Yaz pretended to think. 

“Enough,” she shrugged, and that was as good an answer as Jules needed.

* * *

In the end, they were late. Jules didn’t regret a single second. 

There was no point in heading down separately but Jules could feel Yaz’s hand tighten around her own when they saw that literally everyone else was waiting for them. They’d stopped only briefly to collect Yaz’s luggage - Jules had helped her hurriedly shove her clothes in her suitcase - but there was no hiding the fact that they were both late because they’d been in each other’s company.

“There they are!” someone called out, and there followed a surprisingly enthusiastic cheer, punctuated by a whistle from Donna, who still looked rather worse for wear. 

Yaz blushed so badly that she actually pulled her hand away to hide her face but Jules took it on the chin and bowed. 

“Nice hickey,” Martha laughed, and in the cold light of day, Jules realised she’d left a hell of a mark on Yaz’s neck. 

“Sorry about that,” she murmured, and then her team swarmed her, asking all sorts of inappropriate questions. Behind them, she could hear Yaz being similarly interrogated by her own team. 

“How was it?” Clara asked.

“A lady never tells,” Yaz replied, and Jules realised her cheeks were flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and pride. To acknowledge what had happened so openly just cemented it; the previous night was no dream, after all. And once the initial flurry of interest died down, Jules knew the inappropriate questions would stop coming. They just had to ride out being the subject of team gossip for a little while.

“Jules, did you get any sleep?” Donna asked. “Reckon you'll need to pay extra for those bags under your eyes.”

“At least I got a little, Noble. Did you even make it back last night?”

“Not my fault the bars are open til 5, is it? It’d be rude not to. Our hosts were very accommodating. Next thing I knew, Graham was banging on my door! And you have the nerve to be late?” Donna was only joking but Jules could feel herself getting defensive and was about to protest before Donna cut her off. 

“I’m kidding! I'm glad you both…” she held up her fingers and flexed them in inverted commas, “worked things out.”

“Right, ladies!” Graham clapped his hands, trying to quieten the rabble. “Now that we’re all accounted for,” he winked at Jules, “let’s get going. The minibus is already waiting outside.” 

As her team chatted excitedly about airport pints, Jules’s stomach sank. She’d forgotten they wouldn’t all be travelling to the airport together and she realised, to her dismay, that Yaz was already being pulled in another direction. 

In fact, they didn’t even get the chance to talk at the airport; their respective teams ensconced themselves in different bars to kill time before the flight and to enjoy some hair of the dog, but Jules’s heart wasn’t in it. She was more than happy to find out what she’d missed out on the previous night, but she already missed her bubble with Yaz. She was just relieved that the flight was short and that she’d hopefully get to see Yaz before she left for home. 

Luck was not on her side when she caught up with Yaz in Arrivals.

“Hey,” she grinned, but her smile dropped a little when she saw Yaz’s forlorn expression.

“Hey yourself. I’m really sorry, but I forgot that my sister is picking me up. One day you’ll meet her, I promise, but…”

“I get it,” Jules reassured her. It would be a bit intense for things to move that fast, especially when she’d only recently found out that Yaz even had a sibling. 

“Thing is, she’s right over there and I really want to kiss you but I know she’d never let me hear the end of it. And all that banter on the flight over made me realise that I want you all to myself for a little bit,” Yaz rambled, and Jules could tell that she was just as disappointed that they wouldn’t get to say goodbye in the way they both wanted to.

“Hey, Yaz? It’s ok. I get it. Is a hug allowed?” Jules grinned. The last thing she wanted was for Yaz to feel awkward and she could already sense her discomfort with the situation.

“It’s basically mandatory,” Yaz grinned in reply, and Jules readily wrapped her up in a hug through which she tried to convey how much she’d miss her while they were apart. It was hard to pull apart but eventually they did, although neither of them made a move to walk away. 

“What are you gonna do now?” Yaz asked, shoving her hands in her pockets. She looked tired and beautiful and Jules wished they didn’t have to part ways so soon, but she suspected that even if they had all the time in the universe it wouldn’t feel long enough right now.

“Oh, you know. Make the most of some peace and quiet after being with this lot for a weekend,” Jules replied, jerking her thumb backwards over her shoulder at her subdued teammates. The airport pint had well and truly worn off and most of them looked like they were ready for bed. Donna was practically comatose and Jules suspected she’d have to drive her home, if only to rest easy that she actually made it there.

Both of them laughed good-naturedly at the self-inflicted state of their friends, and Jules felt her mood lighten. She loved hearing Yaz laugh.

“I’ll see you soon, though?” she asked, hoping it didn’t sound like a plea.

“You will,” Yaz insisted. “I promise.” She gave Jules a tiny wave and turned, and Jules watched as she hugged a younger woman who was standing in the crowd. With a heavy sigh, she turned her back and resolved to help get Donna home in one piece.

* * *

Jules disliked returning to her empty apartment. Normally, it was a refuge from the world but she’d spent far too much time in it recently, housebound with her broken collarbone, and now it just seemed cavernous. It had the added effect of making her feel even more lonely than usual. She wondered how Yaz was doing but opted not to text her when she realised they’d only parted ways a meagre 65 minutes ago. 

With a heavy sigh, Jules plonked her luggage on the bed and unzipped it as she started to make a mental checklist of things she needed to do. She wasn’t good at sitting still or killing time, and these tasks would keep her busy and distracted and not thinking about Yaz. 

Washing. Cooking. There was a stack of medical journals she needed to catch up on but Jules crossed them off the list; she needed to be far more mentally engaged to work through those and thoughts of Yaz were too distracting. 

The silence of the flat was shocking after two days of chaos but a repetitive sound cut through it in a way that niggled at her nerves. The kitchen tap was still dripping. 

“That does it,” she muttered. She liked to keep her body busy when she ran the risk of getting too caught up in her thoughts and fixing a dripping tap would be a perfect task. 

Jules was under the sink, tinkering, when the buzzer went. She banged her head off the pipes in surprise. 

“Ow! Shit. This better be good,” she grumbled, wiping her wet hands on her jeans and gingerly touching the top of her head to make sure it wasn’t bleeding. She looked a mess but she wasn’t expecting anybody; chances were it was just one of her neighbours’ visitors pressing the wrong button, so rather than pick up the phone to inquire who it was, she buzzed them in. She was almost back under the sink when there was a knock on the door. 

Jules looked down at her grimy clothes and debated changing but then the person knocked again and her decision was made. Curious, she opened the door to none other than Yasmin Khan. 

“I forgot something,” Yaz blurted, and Jules realised she was clasping her hands in a nervous gesture. 

“In Berlin?” she asked, confused. She tried to recall Yaz’s hotel room, which they’d only paid a flying visit too. Had she packed something of Yaz’s in her own luggage by mistake?

“No, not in Berlin.” 

Before Jules could try and figure out what Yaz was getting at, soft hands were cupping her cheeks and soft lips were pressed against her own. Jules resisted the urge to reach out and touch her, wary of her grimy hands, and instead let her eyes close as Yaz kissed her.

“That,” Yaz breathed.

Jules was flabbergasted. A slow smile spread across her face when she realised that this was something they could do, now. The world was their oyster.

“I had to go home and see my parents and I told my mum I was popping out for bread, so I really should get going. But I realised as I was driving that I really couldn’t let another moment pass without kissing you.”

“Yasmin Khan, are you a secret romantic?”

Yaz inspected her battered Nikes. 

“That’s alright. I am, too,” Jules admitted. 

That caught Yaz’s attention and she looked up, curious. 

“I want to sweep you off your feet. I want to take you on dates and hold your hand and do all the things that make you happy. Would you like that?”

Yaz nodded, and her nerves faded into a soft look that made Jules feel weak.

“I’d be up for anything, if it’s with you. How about you take me somewhere you like to go? I want to get to know you better.”

Jules pondered the request and had a brainwave, just as Yaz added a caveat. 

“There’s one condition, though.”

“Shoot.”

“Can you promise me we’ll do something that doesn’t involve moving too much?”

Jules raised her eyebrow.

“Not like that! I mean-” Yaz grew flustered and shoved her shoulder when Jules started to laugh. It felt nice to have such easy interactions so fast.

“God you’re mean. I don’t want to run around a pitch. That’s what I meant,” Yaz clarified.

Jules grinned when she realised her original plan would still work. 

“Leave it with me, Yaz. I’m going to take you on the best date of your life.”


	32. Date (E)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See if you can guess the film reference in here! Couldn’t resist :)
> 
> I didn't plan on writing this one so soon so there'll be a bit of a longer gap til the next chapter but hopefully this will tide you over!

Jules leant against the car door, arms folded in an attempt at looking casual. She was fizzing with excitement, accompanied by a jangling of nerves, so her attempts to stop fidgeting were starting to prove monumental as time wore on. She had to make a conscious effort to keep her legs still, focusing instead on the path leading down from Yaz’s building as she waited for her date to arrive. It was, thankfully, fairly mild for February; even so, she’d been waiting for just long enough that her nose was turning numb. She’d been far too excited to wait in the car, though, and she’d also turned up far too early, eager to get their date off to a good start. 

But Yaz wouldn’t need to know that. Jules resolutely ignored her watch, staring up at the side of the building instead. She tried to pick out where she thought Yaz’s window might be, reminiscing about the last time she’d visited Yaz’s flat. They’d almost kissed, that day. Jules grinned at the memory and hoped she’d get to see the inside again someday, but today they had plans. She wasn’t sure what Yaz was going to make of those plans - she had no idea how the day was going to pan out, truth be told, although she had hopes of where it might lead - but it was exciting to think that they would spend time together, just the two of them. 

Finally, after a couple of false starts, someone exited the building. Jules could tell it was Yaz just from the way she was walking and she straightened, tamping down a sudden flare of nerves. 

She’d recommended that Yaz dress warmly and was glad to see she had, in a sensible looking quilted jacket and some gloves. Her hair was down, plaited in loose waves that framed her face and made Jules falter momentarily when Yaz finally reached her. She looked happy and relaxed and Jules almost had to pinch herself to stop staring. 

“Hey, Yaz.”

“Hey,” Yaz smiled in return, and then both of them melted into a hug that instantly warmed Jules up. They took their time, only separating when Jules sniffled and Yaz pulled away to frown at her. 

“How long have you been waiting?”

“I only just got here,” Jules tried, but she knew Yaz didn’t believe her from the scrutiny she was receiving. 

“Yeah? You look like Rudolph,” Yaz pointed out, a gloved finger brushing the end of Jules’s nose and leaving it tingling. 

“Alright, I may have been a little early,” Jules admitted, scrunching up her nose to dispel the ticklish sensation. “But I brought you coffee,” she supplied, reaching behind her for one of the disposable cups she’d left perched on the car roof.

“If you’re trying to get yourself extra points, it’s working.”

“I told you it’d be the best date of your life. I don’t want to fall at the first hurdle.”

It was true; Jules was more than nervous about the day and she wanted it to go well. She wanted to show Yaz a good time. 

“I was thinking, we're doing it at all a bit back to front, aren't we?” Yaz said as she took a sip of her drink. 

“You mean sex before dating?” 

Yaz blushed at her bluntness, finding something interesting to stare at on her coffee cup.

“But doing things in order is boring, Yaz.”

“That's one way to put it,” Yaz remarked. “You don't think we're moving too fast?”

Jules shook her head instantly. 

“I think we're making up for lost time.”

“True. Good thing I prepared a list of questions then, isn’t it?”

Jules froze a little at that. She hadn’t considered that Yaz might want to dig into things now that they’d - as she’d put it - done things back to front. It seemed only fair that she would have personal questions for someone she’d slept with.

“I'm only joking,” Yaz amended, clearly sensing Jules’s silent panic. “I'm not going to quiz you. It’s just...I’ve never done anything like this, you know? I don’t really know what I’m meant to do.” 

She shrugged, and Jules forced herself to relax. This was meant to be fun and if Yaz didn’t date then she was probably already uncertain about the lay of the land. But Yaz also had a valid point - doing things out of order did make it harder to gauge what was appropriate and what wasn’t. 

“How about holding hands?” Jules suggested, holding hers out for Yaz to take. “Or we can work up to that and save the kissing for the second date.”

Yaz shook her head, grabbing Jules’s hand and tugging her close. 

“I take it back. Back to front is just fine with me. And I would like kisses at some point today, please, or I want to speak to the manager.”

Jules laughed at her change in tone. She knew that Yaz was right to be worried about taking things fast but, she could already sense that things were just...different, between them. Normal took a flying leap out of the window when there was chemistry as good as theirs. 

“Alright, then. Kisses are back on the table. But first…”

Jules turned to open the passenger door behind her, ushering Yaz inside. 

“Where _are_ we going?” Yaz asked, before Jules could close the door. 

“Are you starting on that list of questions already?” Jules joked. “I’m not going to spoil the surprise!”

* * *

“You know, when I said an activity that didn’t involve moving...I should have clarified I meant sport. In any shape or form.”

Jules grimaced. She’d thought Yaz would enjoy her choice of activity because it was something that had actually brought them together to begin with. 

“Ah. Well, you wanted to know what I like to do…”

“You come and watch football?”

Yaz gestured to the pitch. The teams playing were well past their prime but there was no denying their enthusiasm, even if their skill level left a lot to be desired.

“Yeah! I get to hang out with some proper legends, too, like Wilf. Believe it or not he's Donna's grandad.”

Jules waved at Wilf, who was sitting a few seats down. He tipped his flatcap back at them and Jules could see Yaz softening when she waved back with a smile.

“I never pictured you hanging out with a bunch of granddads, even if they are your best mate's. That's cute.”

“They have some interesting stories, too. Love a good story. Plus Wilf taught me all about space, and aliens. It's amazing what you can learn from a game of football.”

Yaz laughed at the mention of aliens and Jules felt herself growing warm again at the sound. She made a determined effort to look forwards, back at the ragtag bunch of players running about after the ball, rather than gawping at the beautiful woman sitting next to her.

“Are they any good though?” Yaz gestured at the players and Jules pulled a face.

“Not really,” she admitted. “In fact, both of us can play better than any of those blokes-”

“You, maybe,” Yaz interjected, but Jules shook her head. 

“You’re a brilliant player, Yaz! But women's football doesn't get quite the same attention. It's partly why I like it, though. We just get on with the job and don’t waste any time.”

“You're not wrong about that,” Yaz agreed. 

At that point, a shoddy kick sent Jules to her feet on autopilot. 

“Hey, offside! Offside!” She cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, swearing as the referee looked gormlessly at her and conferred with one of the linesmen. 

“You should referee, you'd be better,” Yaz pointed out as she sat back down. 

“Anyone would be better than Rory. But then I wouldn't get to heckle, and that's the best bit. Want me to teach you how?”

Yaz squinted at her.

“What, like in that film? My mouth is a cathedral and all that?”

“Busted,” Jules grinned. She wondered if she’d fallen for Yaz at first sight too, just like the women in that movie. 

“Alright then, no more football. Where would you like to go?” Jules wrapped an arm around Yaz’s shoulder and tucked her rainbow scarf around her neck. 

Yaz relented after only a few seconds. 

“I might be kind of comfy here. This,” she reached for Jules's free hand and held it, “works for me. And I did say I wanted to get to know you, do something you like to do. I just never imagined this. But you know what? It suits you.” 

“How's that then?”

“A little eccentric. Unpredictable. Surprisingly sweet.”

Jules felt a smile tugging at her lips.

“You really are discovering all my secrets.”

“And that’s why I'm going to make an ace copper.”

Yaz’s pride was genuine: it wasn’t plagued by arrogance or boastfulness, but a simple acknowledgement of how good she was at her job. Jules agreed wholeheartedly.

“You already are.”

“Nearly,” Yaz pulled a face. “Technically, probation ends in a few months and I can't wait.”

“Really? In that case, we should do something to celebrate.”

Yaz nodded, but when she said nothing further, Jules wondered if she might have overstepped the mark. She returned her gaze to the game in progress. She really didn’t want to make any missteps but when Yaz started rubbing her thumb over the back of her hand, Jules felt her brain blank out.

“How about we make things interesting?” she suggested, hoping her idea wouldn’t fall flat. She wanted to gauge where their boundaries for a date actually were. 

“Go on…”

“You want to make a bet? Pick a team. Winner gets to decide where we go tonight.”

“Tonight?” Yaz licked her lips. 

“Yeah. Yours or mine.”

“Do all of your first dates end in sex?” Yaz didn’t seem too bothered, though, judging by the way she leaned into Jules in response. 

“Who says we’ll do anything but sleep when we get there?” Jules called her bluff.

Yaz scoffed, and Jules had her answer. They might well be dancing around the formality of a date but they’d already crossed a certain line in Berlin and both of them seemed keen to keep things moving forwards. It was the green light that Jules had hoped for.

“Alright then, you’re on. I’ll pick home.”

Jules knew she’d lose - the away team were even worse than the home side - but she didn’t much mind if it meant she got to go home with Yaz. 

“Good choice. Away it is.” 

Yaz interlinked their fingers and Jules wondered why she’d even considered that they might not be going home together. From the moment she’d laid eyes on Yaz that morning, from the first contact of their hug, her nerves had evolved into anticipation of the evening ahead.

She started to relax, getting more and more into the game as Yaz did, too - their little wager probably helped - and when Jules did indeed lose, she wasn’t remotely upset. If anything, they’d progressively been losing interest in the football and struggled to keep their hands to themselves.

The tension that had arisen pursued them back to the car; Jules draped her arm across Yaz’s shoulders again, under the pretence of keeping her warm. But when Yaz placed her hand on Jules’s stomach as they walked, their pace became even more glacial and they dawdled. It wasn’t the most practical way of moving but Jules didn’t mind if it meant she could feel Yaz against her. 

“I think you’re the only person in the universe who could get me to sit through two hours of county league football on a cold February morning,” Yaz admitted. 

“Did you enjoy yourself?” Jules asked as she unlocked the car.

Yaz nodded. “I did, funnily enough. You surprised me.”

“I have plenty more of those up my sleeve.” Jules opened the car door for Yaz, just as she had earlier that morning.

“So do I,” Yaz replied confidently, ignoring the car in favour of grabbing hold of Jules’s coat and pulling her into a heated kiss. Jules blindly shut the door, pinning Yaz against it.

“For every single minute of that game, I wanted to do that,” Yaz said as she paused for breath. “If the stands hadn’t been so full of old men, I might have done.”

Jules laughed. Yaz really had surprised her. She could feel the tips of her ears burning with heat, rather than cold, for the first time that day. 

“Probably best you didn’t. I’d rather not deal with any heart attacks today.”

Yaz inhaled sharply and her fingers tightened in the wool of Jules’s coat. 

“And then you go and remind me about what you do for a living. Can you stop being so damned attractive?”

“I...well, I can try,” Jules smiled, genuinely pleased at the unexpected compliment. She never considered her profession to be something that people would find attractive about her, but when Yaz kissed her again, she revised her opinion. 

“Let the girl breathe, Jules.”

They separated, startled, as Wilf passed them by, rolled-up newspaper in hand. 

“Ah, I, er-”

Jules rubbed at the back of her neck in embarrassment and Wilf laughed as he waved them off with his paper. She wondered how long it would be until she got a gossipy text from Donna.

“Oh my god,” Yaz groaned. “I almost forgot where we were.”

“Same,” Jules admitted. She’d been so wrapped up that she’d forgotten about the possibility of an audience. It made the next part of her plan a far less appealing prospect.

“So...dinner?” she suggested. The previous evening, she’d spent the best part of an hour cultivating a shortlist of restaurants they could choose from, given that she didn’t know what Yaz even liked to eat. Now, she wondered if her plan had been a bit short-sighted; she hadn’t planned on kissing Yaz that early on in proceedings and sitting down to eat a meal was now far lower down her list of priorities. Her carefully constructed plan was unravelling at the seams but Jules couldn’t have cared less. 

“Would you mind if we made it a takeaway?”

Jules was relieved that Yaz was on the same wavelength. 

“I like the way you think. Yours or mine? You won, after all.”

“I don’t care,” Yaz admitted, blatantly staring at Jules’s mouth. “Whose is closest?”

* * *

The front door smacked into the wall as Jules barrelled through it, barely remembering to snag her keys from the lock before she shut it quickly behind them, kicking off her Converse and reaching for Yaz simultaneously. The drive had been torture and they’d barely made it into the building before Yaz had practically jumped her. 

Yaz was already working on her own coat, and Jules abandoned hers in favour of cupping Yaz’s chin in her hand and kissing her again, shrugging off her outer layer as an afterthought. Yaz wobbled as she kicked off her boots and one of them went flying in her enthusiasm, clattering somewhere on the tiled floor of the kitchen. The noise prompted her to laugh and Jules turned to see where it had ended up: near the windowsill, narrowly avoiding one of her potted plants. 

Even had Yaz actually managed to hit it, Jules realised she wouldn’t have minded in the slightest. That wasn’t like her at all; her flat was normally pristine but then Yaz had come into it, and her life, blasting through it like a whirlwind and shaking things up for the better. 

“That was close,” she observed, bringing their mouths back together as Yaz ran her hands through her hair, ruffling it and tangling it around her fingers. Jules turned to putty at the feel of her fingers and she moaned as Yaz gave as good as she got. 

“Bedroom?” Jules just about made out and Yaz nodded avidly, barely detaching her lips as she walked backwards towards their shared goal. Cold fingers were fumbling with the button of her jeans and Jules reluctantly parted from Yaz to remove her long-sleeved shirt. They both stood there for a moment, breathless; Jules was in her bra and her jeans were half undone, one sock missing, and Yaz...Yaz was still wearing too many clothes. 

As if she’d read her mind, Yaz started to unbutton her own shirt, ogling Jules’s chest as she did so. 

“I’m so- fuck,” Jules cursed as Yaz’s bra became visible. “Erm. Yeah. I’m glad we’re doing this.”

Yaz chuckled, a breathy sound that did things to Jules’s insides. 

“I don’t think it was going to end any other way,” Yaz admitted, working on her jeans as Jules finally tugged her own down. “Nice boxers.”

Jules glanced down to remind herself of the print she’d chosen: cats in fezzes. She recalled, with a grimace, that she hadn’t actually given much thought to her underwear that morning; she’d been too excited to see Yaz. 

“I think I’d better take these off,” she laughed, and Yaz nodded enthusiastically, snaring her lower lip between her teeth as Jules worked the offending material down her thighs.

“Much better,” she breathed, then unsnapped her bra. Sheer magnetism drew Jules to her then, and they both sighed as Jules palmed her breasts, growing firmer and bolder in her touches. For her part, Yaz was hardly idle. Her hands were running over the skin of Jules’s back, drifting to the small of it and resting there. 

“You know…” Yaz gasped as Jules pinched her nipple. “I was thinking.”

“Always a dangerous occupation,” Jules quipped, thoroughly distracted by Yaz’s breasts. 

“In Berlin…”

The words sank in and when no more was forthcoming, Jules pulled back to look Yaz in the eye. She seemed...nervous? Jules let her hands fall to the side, waiting for Yaz to get her words out. They were probably about to do everything they’d done in Berlin, but she needed Yaz to be more specific. She needed to know that Yaz wanted this as much as she did. 

“You said...you said you...ugh, why can’t I say this.”

Jules tried to cast her mind back but she had no idea what Yaz was getting at. 

“It’s okay, Yaz. Take your time.”

“It’s not so much that, it’s just a bit...well, embarrassing.”

“Nothing you could say would make me judge you. You know that, right?” Jules was emphatic. Yaz could have asked Jules to take her to outer space and she’d have done everything in her power to get them there. Admittedly, she wouldn’t have got very far, but she’d have tried. 

“You said you had a big dick.”

Jules’s eyes widened as Yaz blurted the words out.

“Oh! I thought you didn't want to do anything that involved moving too much?” she joked, making a valiant attempt to ignore the way her heart was thumping inside her chest. She hadn’t thought about trying anything like that with Yaz just yet, but Yaz had apparently been thinking about it for the past week. 

“Jules!”

“Sorry, Yaz. You make it too easy.”

“I want to see you break a sweat,” Yaz explained, but Jules could tell she was nervous from the way her throat bobbed as she swallowed. 

“I’ll do more than that. Get settled on the bed and I’ll be right there.” 

Jules waited until Yaz was comfortable before she crossed to the dresser. It didn’t take her long to find the item in question and she turned her back to Yaz as she strapped it on. It was a little on the large side, that much she knew, but she wondered if it might be a bit too ambitious when she saw Yaz’s expression as she turned around. 

“Of course you'd be big. You really weren’t lying.”

That nervous swallow came back and Jules stopped at the foot of the bed, watching Yaz watch her. Then it clicked. 

“Wait a second. Have you done this before?”

Yaz narrowed her eyes and shook her head, as if it pained her to admit it. 

“There are a few things I haven't. But this, when you mentioned it, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. About you, like...that,” Yaz gestured at the toy. Jules could see her pulse throbbing steadily in her neck. 

“That's alright. First time for everything right?”

Yaz nodded and Jules climbed onto the bed, settling between Yaz’s thighs. Yaz gasped as she eased her legs apart. 

“I’m not using this on you until I know you’re ready for it,” Jules offered by way of explanation, running her fingers through Yaz’s folds and feeling her arousal first-hand. She was slick and hot and practically keening at the touch and Jules watched intently as she slipped inside, testing her with her fingers in a way that was more teasing than stimulating; by the feel of it, Yaz didn’t need much more encouragement. Still, it didn’t take long for Yaz to get even more worked up and Jules could feel her own resolve dissipate. It was one thing warming Yaz up like this, but the toy between her legs was a constant reminder of where things were leading. 

Yaz complained when she stopped but Jules ignored her, joining her by the pillows.

“Satisfied?” Yaz asked, and Jules answered by sucking the tips of the fingers that had been between her legs. Yaz groaned at the visual and Jules couldn’t help but smirk at the complete loss of her inhibitions. Any anxiety Yaz might have had seemed to have disappeared, replaced instead by a hungry look that made Jules positively throb. 

“If you want to do this, the best way to start things off is if you’re on top. You can guide the pace,” Jules suggested. She wanted to make sure it was as good as it could be for Yaz, and that it was comfortable. “And if that goes okay, well...we’ll go from there. No pressure.”

Yaz nodded again, but Jules really needed to hear her say the words. 

“If it isn't working, just say. Ok? We don't have to do this.”

Yaz shook her head. 

“I really want to try.”

 _That’s my girl_. Jules nearly said the words aloud and cursed her lack of filter. Instead, she busied herself with some lube, settling herself at the headboard and encouraging Yaz to straddle her thighs. 

“Take your time, Yaz. Hold onto my shoulders, or the headboard. I’ll be right here.”

Jules held her breath and didn’t move a muscle as Yaz lowered herself onto the toy. She watched her face for any sign of discomfort and only once Yaz had reached the base did she reach out and touch her, resting her hands gently on her hips. She glanced between them, awed at the sight of them joined so intimately.

“Is it ok?”

“Nothing I can't handle,” Yaz panted. She was breathing faster, short puffs of air that passed over the top of Jules’s head. 

“Slow and steady,” Jules reminded her, biting her lip so hard it nearly bled when Yaz started to move. 

After a few unsteady thrusts Yaz found her groove and she experimented slightly, rolling her hips every now and again in a way that pressed the base of the toy against Jules’s clit.

“Fuck,” Jules swore, utterly entranced by the way Yaz was riding her. She’d never seen or felt anything like it; everything with Yaz was like experiencing things for the first time. It was like Yaz had opened her eyes to things, or given her a different sense of perspective. They were discovering this together, and Jules was humbled by the way that Yaz trusted her; by the way she opened herself up to Jules, literally, taking her deep inside even as she cradled Jules’s head in her arms. 

“Yeah,” Yaz groaned, eyes firmly closed as she worked herself over. “Fuck.”

They were as eloquent as one another, too, it seemed. By now they were both sweating, working up substantial heat, which wasn’t surprising given how closely they were pressed together. 

“You look so good, Yaz.” But Jules knew she needed to feel more, so she slipped a hand between them to rub at Yaz’s clit and marvelled at the slope of Yaz’s neck; her head was thrown back and her breasts were bouncing as she started to ride her in earnest. Jules supported her as best she could, her other hand splayed across her shoulders as her hips started to thrust up a little. It was a delicate balancing act and she was grateful for her core strength but there was no denying Yaz’s own power; Jules could see the muscles in her thighs working as she supported her weight, the way her biceps tensed when she grabbed onto the headboard behind Jules’s head, arms braced around her ears.

The extra pressure on her clit prompted Yaz’s eyes to fly open. 

“Alright?” Jules panted, forcing herself to slow. 

“Don’t slow,” Yaz moaned. “Can you go faster?” 

“Yeah, if you get on your hands and knees.”

Without a second thought, Yaz lifted herself off the toy with a slick sound that made Jules’s ears burn. But her face followed suit when Yaz readily got onto her hands and knees, presenting herself for Jules to take as she liked. 

“You really are something else,” Jules praised her, watching for Yaz’s reaction as she ran the tip of the toy through her folds, teasing her. 

“Is that a compliment?”

Jules nodded, and thrust inside. 

“Ah! Oh god. Fucking hell,” Yaz groaned, grasping hold of the sheets in a death grip as Jules set a much faster pace. Her hands gripped hold of Yaz’s hips and the sound of their skin meeting punctuated every thrust, a constant slapping sound that was mirrored only by the gentle knocking of the headboard against the wall. 

“Fast enough?” Jules panted, already starting to feel the strain. She could hear herself breathing hard, feel the sweat cooling her skin even as she worked faster. It felt like she was molten inside. But she was fit, she knew she could hack the pace, and she wanted to give Yaz the ride of her life. 

“Fu--uck,” Yaz grunted, the word broken over a solid thrust. “Yes. Yes, please.”

“Please what?”

“Don’t stop,” she groaned.

Jules found it a lot easier to get into a rhythm when she was dictating it and the added bonus was that she could get deeper taking Yaz like this; she could tell it was working for Yaz because the noises she was making were even more frequent and guttural than before. As ever, she was in tune to what gave Yaz pleasure and whatever she was doing seemed to be working.

She placed a steady hand between Yaz’s shoulder blades and pushed, gently, until her head was on the pillow and only her arse was left in the air. 

“Touch yourself, Yaz.” 

Yaz didn’t need any further encouragement; her hand slipped between her legs and Jules watched as it started to move, fast. Almost simultaneously it became harder to push; she realised that Yaz was about to come because she’d tensed up, her eyes squeezed shut and her face contorted in an expression of sheer pleasure. Nonsense sounds fell from her open mouth as her hand moved like a blur between her legs. 

“That's it,” Jules encouraged, her hips moving fluidly as she put more effort into her thrusts, deepening them even as she maintained her pace. Her thighs were burning with the effort but it didn’t take long for Yaz to peak, crying out in ecstasy as Jules finally slowed her pace, fucking her through it. 

Jules caught her breath, leaning back to watch as the toy slipped in and out of Yaz. It was a sight she’d not forget in a hurry; it felt like they were truly connected and Jules couldn’t stop watching as she guided Yaz to the end of her climax. 

She pulled out carefully, guiding Yaz’s hips to the bed before she got up on shaky legs and threw the toy in the ensuite sink. 

Yaz was still recovering her senses when she returned, more than turned on but also more than a little tired out from their exertions. In all her wildest daydreams, she hadn’t anticipated that their date would end quite like that. 

“Wow,” Yaz exclaimed.

“You alright?” Jules asked, dotting her face with kisses as she held her close. 

“More than alright,” Yaz grinned, breathless. “You really know what you’re doing with that thing.”

Jules felt all number of retorts trip over the tip of her tongue, but she said none of them. 

“It’s never felt quite like that,” she confessed. “Watching you take it was something else.”

“Oh yeah?” Yaz propped herself up on an elbow. “Maybe one day I’ll return the favour.”

The thought made Jules squirm and she sighed at the idea of Yaz topping her in the same way. Only River had managed to do it and even then it was rare, but Jules was certain Yaz could give her a run for her money. She couldn’t wait to find out. 

“But for now…” Yaz resumed, attaching her mouth to Jules neck as she rolled on top of her.

“This will have to do.”

Jules gasped as fingers slid between them, rubbing firmly over her clit before sliding inside her as easily as a hot knife through butter. 

She came fast, Yaz mouthing at her neck as she pumped her fingers between her thighs, the knuckle of her thumb pressing against her clit just so. 

Jules grasped hold of Yaz in surprise as the wave hit, her grip tight as she embraced the sensations racing along her nerves. On an anatomical level she knew precisely how it worked but what Yaz had just done within mere minutes was extraordinary: she’d turned her into a shivering mess with nothing more than a handful of precise thrusts and just the right amount of pressure in all the right places. 

Put simply, Jules was putty once more in Yaz’s hands, and she readily accepted her fate. She didn’t protest when Yaz wrapped her in a slightly sweaty hug afterwards; the contact was almost necessary, given how exposed she felt. It was like she’d been stripped back, shed of her pretences and her barriers and reduced to the most basic elements. Aftershocks raced along her limbs, making her feel even more vulnerable, but with Yaz there she felt so safe that it didn’t matter.

“You really weren't wrong...that was the best date of my life,” Yaz murmured, pressing a kiss to her hair. 

Jules felt like she was floating, anchored only by their tangle of limbs.

“Careful, Yaz, or you'll inflate my ego even more.”

“I dunno,” Yaz’s lips quirked, and Jules felt like she was being read on a cellular level with that gaze alone. “I think it can handle a little extra.”

Yaz reached for her hand, kissing her knuckles like it was the most obvious thing in the world to do at that moment. Jules didn’t think to question it, content to simply receive such gentle affection. It had been a long, long time since someone had treated her quite like that, if ever, and she let herself bask in it. 

Unfortunately, her stomach chose that moment to broadcast that it was in need of sustenance. Yaz giggled as it rumbled loudly. 

“Oh god. Sorry, Yaz. I could eat for three people most days.”

“After that performance, I’m not surprised,” Yaz smirked. Jules made a move to get up but Yaz pushed her back to the mattress. 

“Relax. Let me grab my phone and we'll order, yeah? It’s in my coat pocket. I’ll be right back.”

Yaz padded away naked and carefree and as Jules watched, she wondered how on earth she got so lucky. 


	33. Bubble (E)

Jules liked to wake up with Yaz almost as much as she liked to go to bed with her. They'd been doing a lot of the latter ever since they’d got back from Berlin, meeting as often as their work shifts permitted, and after football practice was often a convenient time for them to get together; after the first few times, the subtle comments and jokes about them scoring for the wrong team fell by the wayside but it wasn’t like Jules paid much attention to them, anyway. 

A lot of the time, they headed straight for bed. When Yaz asked if that was normal, Jules just chalked it up to them being in a honeymoon period - to fresh feelings with someone new that dominated every waking thought. She realised Yaz had probably never felt anything like that before but in truth, she hadn't either. 

Whenever they opted to do something actually date-like, it proved difficult to keep their hands off one another and Jules knew they were as bad as each other. For instance, the previous evening, Yaz had laid an innocent hand on her thigh in the cinema but the touch had burned so much that Jules had had to force herself to pay attention to the film and even now, she couldn't actually remember what had happened. Instead she could vividly recall how much Yaz had enjoyed the film, her exclamations of surprise telegraphed by gentle squeezes of Jules's leg. When Jules turned to look at her, the light from the screen was bright enough for her to make out Yaz’s eyes and her smile as she watched, captivated by what was playing out on screen. But in Jules’s mind, Yaz was far more interesting to look at. The gentle pressure on her leg drove Jules to distraction in the best kind of way and they’d barely made it through her front door later that evening before her hands were all over Yaz, desperate for skin. For her part, Yaz hardly complained, and Jules began to suspect that she was deliberately winding her up with her public touches when Jules couldn’t do anything about them. 

An added bonus of their new-found physical relationship was that Jules often tired herself out enough to sleep deeply, perturbed less frequently by her recurring nightmares. She wasn’t certain if it was a by-product of Yaz being there - that somehow her body and mind knew, even when asleep, that Yaz was with her - or if it was the chemistry their coupling created that banished her darker thoughts, but her mind had finally given her some of the peace she’d been craving.

As if she knew Jules was thinking about her, Yaz shifted as she woke. Moments later her eyes blinked open and she squinted at Jules in the early morning light. Jules would never get tired of seeing Yasmin Khan first thing, fresh from sleep and still half-conscious. 

“Hey, baby,” Yaz mumbled sleepily, rubbing her eyes as she yawned. Jules melted at the endearment, which slipped from Yaz’s lips effortlessly. “You sleep ok?”

“Yeah,” Jules replied. She always slept better with Yaz there, but she wasn’t going to say that just yet. After all, Yaz had only just woken up and it was far too early to get that deep, both in the day and in whatever stage of whatever this arrangement was. They hadn’t quite got around to putting a name to things yet, but that was hardly a priority when both of them were so in tune with one another; it seemed like a formality to label something that they both seemed to have an innate understanding of, even if they’d not explicitly discussed it. Jules bit back a smile as Yaz shuffled closer, draping an arm around her waist as she tucked her head under Jules’s chin. 

“Last night was fun,” Yaz sighed into her skin, and Jules smirked into the crown of Yaz’s head as she deposited a kiss there. 

“It was, wasn’t it. Fancy a repeat performance?”

Jules wasn’t remotely surprised by her continued need for physical contact. It took very little to turn her on when Yaz was pressed up against her and her hand started to roam across Yaz’s back and down to her backside. 

Yaz sighed happily at the touch, her breath hitching when Jules’s palm grazed the sensitive skin, fingers tracing the shape of her.

“Always,” she agreed, and Jules easily nudged her onto her back. But she’d forgotten quite how enthusiastic she’d been the previous night and when she braced herself over Yaz, she winced as her shoulder protested at the movement. Yaz spotted it instantly. 

“You alright?” she frowned, hands clasping Jules’s biceps. “That looks like it hurts.”

Jules shook her head but when she shifted her shoulder twinged again, betraying her. 

“Come on,” Yaz patted the pillow. “Come back here. I’m going to sort you out.”

“Oh?” Jules wriggled her eyebrows but Yaz was having none of it. 

“Backrub time.”

Although Jules was not entirely displeased by the turn of events - Yaz would be touching her either way - she huffed as she flopped onto the pillow, frustrated that her injury had hampered proceedings. She’d not been keeping up with her physiotherapy exercises because every minute of her free time had been spent with Yaz and she hadn’t wanted to waste a moment. But Yaz didn’t seem disappointed. Instead, she seemed determined. 

“Roll onto your front, I’m going to get rid of some of the tension.”

Jules was sidetracked by the sight of a very naked Yaz getting onto her knees but when Yaz raised an eyebrow at her, she did as she was told. She had to bite back a gasp of surprise when Yaz abruptly pulled the duvet away, exposing her bare skin to the room. 

Then there was warm, solid pressure as Yaz straddled the backs of her legs and Jules moaned into the pillow when she felt Yaz’s hands start to touch her, rubbing carefully at her lower back and moving upwards. 

“You’re so tense,” Yaz muttered, and she put more emphasis into her hands, kneading at the muscles more thoroughly. Jules hadn’t realised quite how tense she was and she bit her lip at the pain, which helped calm the arousal between her legs. But it didn’t take long for that pain to turn into relief as Yaz worked the muscles deftly, her hands adding just the right amount of pressure. Jules groaned happily at the attention. 

“If I haven’t told you before, you have magic hands,” she sighed, eyes closed as Yaz worked upwards. She eased up when she reached Jules’s shoulders, waiting for feedback. 

“You can go harder,” Jules sighed, hands clenching the pillow as Yaz followed her instructions. 

“That’s what you said last night,” Yaz quipped. She was clearly pleased with her response, judging by her smug tone. 

“That’s what you say _every_ night,” Jules replied instantly, picturing the look on Yaz’s face. Her own was squarely planted into the pillow, focusing on her breathing as Yaz worked out all the kinks. Her eyes flew open as she felt bare breasts brush her back.

“Like you’re complaining,” Yaz muttered in her ear, but Jules could tell she was flustered.

“You’ve got to be careful, though,” she continued, straightening up, and Jules sighed in disappointment. She’d been hopeful her massage would have a happy ending.

“I don’t want you hurting yourself. Or if you do, and let’s be honest, you probably will, I least want to be there to help.”

Jules hissed as she felt knuckles dig into a tender muscle that she’d clearly neglected. She felt Yaz move to the other side, to her older injury, more tentative than she had been anywhere else. They’d talked about that scar just once. Yaz had traced it with her fingertip and kissed it and moved on, to Jules’s relief. 

Jules could feel herself tensing up as Yaz touched the old wound. 

“When I first stayed here, you had a picture up,” Yaz continued, hands careful as they moved over her shoulder. They were onto trickier territory and her touch had become as tentative as her tone.

Jules had chosen to move the photograph of her squad when Yaz had started to stay over more regularly. The feel of Yaz’s hands on her, touching her so directly in a way that eased her pain, made it easier for Jules to be honest about why she’d done it.

“It felt odd to have them there with you here, too. That part of my life has haunted me for so long but I want to put it behind me. I want a clean sheet.”

Jules turned her head to catch Yaz’s eye. The moment she did, Yaz leaned in again to kiss her softly. “Thank you,” she whispered. 

“What for?”

“For telling me that.”

Jules shrugged as best she could, confused as to what Yaz was thanking her for. 

Yaz straightened back up, hands trailing over her shoulder blades in a manner that was more affectionate than purposeful. It seemed her massage was over. 

“It’s just that you never really talk about life before me,” Yaz explained. "And that's okay, that's alright. It's just something I've noticed, that you don't like to talk about yourself all that much."

“That's because what happened then is nowhere near as interesting as what's happening now,” Jules deflected, eyes fluttering closed as she felt a feather-light touch down her spine. 

Yaz paused in the motion and Jules wondered if she was going to push for more information. She clearly wanted to know more, but Jules didn’t want to offload everything just yet, and definitely not now. She didn’t want to tarnish their progress with memories of what had happened in her past. She wanted to put it behind her, to forget it all, to move forwards and not let her past hinder her for once in her life. And Yaz was the only thing she wanted to think about because, simply, she made her the happiest she’d been in years. 

_Please don't push. Not just yet._

To her relief, Yaz’s touch continued and she traced her hip, branching out. 

“You’re so self-sufficient, Jules, but that doesn't mean you can't have help. And I want to help, especially if it means I get to do this.”

Jules gasped as Yaz’s hands drifted lower, tracing the curve of her glutes. The teasing touch was encouraging her arousal back to life and Jules very much wanted to shift the conversation in that direction. 

“You can help in other ways right now,” she sighed softly, hips rocking into the mattress beneath her in a none-too-subtle hint. 

“Jules!” Yaz tutted, mock-scandalised, through giggles. 

“What? I have a beautiful woman giving me a massage. I'm only human.”

“Alright, alright,” Yaz sighed, as if she was making some great sacrifice. The proximity of her hands to Jules’s backside suggested otherwise, especially when they grabbed hold of it and squeezed. “Only if you keep still and look after that shoulder. I need you to be functional.”

Yaz moved away but only so she could guide Jules’s legs apart and slide between them. When she felt teeth nip at her arse cheek, Jules yelped in surprise. Yaz’s answering chuckle sent a fresh wave of arousal between Jules's legs that easily guided clever fingers inside her. 

Jules groaned into the pillow as she realised she would get her happy ending, after all. 

* * *

Jules could happily have stayed in bed for the remainder of the day but when Yaz reminded her of what they were meant to be doing that afternoon, she cursed football for the first time in her life. 

“Do we have to?” she pouted, but she could already tell that Yaz wasn’t going to bail on their commitments. 

“I'd have thought this would be right up your alley,” Yaz replied, foregoing a shower and pulling her kit on. She’d brought it with her to their date, knowing full well that they were going to spend the night at Jules’s flat even if they hadn't actually discussed it. 

They were already on the verge of running late but Jules found herself reluctant to leave the bed, a task that was made only a little easier once Yaz had vacated it. Being in bed alone was nowhere near as fun and Jules bit at her lip as she watched Yaz get changed, wondering if she could tempt her back. 

“Come on,” Yaz chided. “You hate being late.”

Jules sighed dramatically and rolled out of bed, a spring in her step. She really did feel much better after Yaz’s massage - both of them - even if she knew she’d be feeling the first one tomorrow. 

“Alright, alright,” she agreed, opening up a drawer. Seeing her kit provoked a wave of excitement. Their plans for the afternoon were going to be fun, after all, and she’d still get to spend the time with Yaz, even if not directly. “You know this means we can turn it into a contact sport?”

That gave Yaz pause and Jules grinned as she pulled on her own kit. 

“You know that if you come after me, you aren’t getting any?”

“We’ll see about that,” Jules smirked, hurriedly dressing and beating Yaz to the bathroom door to brush her teeth. “Come on, then, Yaz. You’re going to make us late.”

She managed to duck a pair of balled-up socks and stuck out her tongue at Yaz, who had pulled a face at her cheek. 

“You’re going to regret that later.”

And regret it, Jules did. 

Once they arrived at the venue, Yaz hurried to join her team, leaving Jules with the briefest of kisses and waving goodbye as she jogged over to Bill. Jules sighed as she shouldered her kit bag, which included Yaz's clothes. It felt nice to be bringing gear that wasn’t her own and she consoled herself with the fact that they’d be able to pick up where they left off later that evening, but it was also mildly alarming how much she missed Yaz within seconds. She’d never been so clingy.

"Jules, you with us?" Donna called her over, and Jules realised her own team were also huddled outside, waiting for her. “Don’t worry, you’ll see her again in a minute.”

Jules rolled her eyes as Donna called her out and made her way over, deliberately not looking back to where Yaz was standing with her team. 

“Subtle, Noble.”

“You definitely aren’t,” Donna replied. “Graham’s already inside checking out the gear. You’d better not take it easy on them now that you’re shagging another one of their defenders!”

“Fat chance,” Jules retorted. Even when she’d dated Bill, she’d never let that get in the way of their interactions on the football pitch. But today, Jules already knew that things were going to play out differently to usual. This was their first game against one another since Berlin and Jules was already distracted with thoughts of Yaz. That, and they weren’t playing any normal game of football. 

Graham was easy to spot, surrounded as he was by the giant inflatable bubbles they were to wear to play. He looked awfully pleased with himself and Jules suspected that was because he didn’t have to actually get involved.

“These are heavier than they look,” Donna grumbled as she tightened the straps over her shoulders. Jules could barely hear her given that she was also strapped into a giant inflatable, which felt claustrophobic and uncomfortable on her shoulders; she’d actually had to loosen the straps so that they didn’t dig in too much, and she was grateful that Yaz had worked out the knots in her muscles earlier that morning. Donna was right: the bubbles were surprisingly heavy and bulky and hard to move around in, and it was going to be difficult to score. 

Jules knew it was all meant to be a bit of fun - Ryan had suggested their teams play a game as a kind of team bonding experience - but her competitive streak was nevertheless going to emerge, she could already tell. Over on the other side of the sports hall she could see Clara and Rose ensconced in their own bubbles and their height was going to prove detrimental; Clara’s legs barely made it out of the bottom and she was going to find it hard to run. 

Jules frowned as she looked for Yaz but it was almost impossible to see who was in each ball until they were up close. 

“Gather round,” Graham beckoned them closer, and Jules laughed as several of her teammates forgot quite how big their bubbles were and knocked into one another.

“Maybe not that close, ladies,” Graham chuckled, and Jules wished she could get him involved. Next time, she thought. He’d not be able to escape next time.

“Don’t forget that this is all for a laugh. You might be relatively safe inside those things but your legs aren’t and I don’t want any more injuries. And yes, that means you, Jules.”

“What? I’ll behave,” Jules protested, but Graham shot her a look that told her he knew just how competitive she could be. 

“I’ll be sending you off if I think you’re going to hurt yourself,” he warned. “We already lost you for a few weeks and we’ve just got you back. So! Forget the goals, and just have fun, alright?”

Jules muttered as she walked as best she could to the middle of the hall. She eyed up Clara and Rose, who were clearly struggling - the bottom edge of the inflatables was impeding their knees - and laughed at the sight, until her breath steamed up the plastic in front of her face. That was certainly going to make things interesting, and within minutes of the whistle blowing Jules was practically running blind. 

Her usual sense of space was obliterated by the bulky bubble around her and even when she did get the ball, her possession was short-lived; someone would smash into her deliberately, sending her flying rather than even attempting to get the ball from her. 

Yaz was true to her word and got her revenge not long into the first half, which was a lot shorter than any game of football Jules had ever seen or played, for reasons that became obvious almost immediately: bubble football was exhausting. Jules had just belted down the side of their makeshift pitch, eyes firmly on her feet so that she wouldn’t trip, but just as she looked up to score she realised she’d made an error. Two defenders were practically on top of her, clearly coordinating their attack. Jules could just make out Yaz’s face, then Bill’s, as they both hit her at sufficient speed to send her flying backwards so hard that she flipped upside down.

“Shit,” Jules laughed in shock at being literally knocked out of play. Her ball was now stuck upside down. She wriggled her legs furiously, determined to get upright under her own steam, but it was impossible. Eventually Graham came to her aid - he was one of the few people who could actually help, given that his arms weren’t trapped inside a torture device - but not before he’d taken a video with his phone. 

“Grace will have a field day with that,” he chuckled, and Jules gave him a glare that would have been effective if he’d actually been able to see it properly. “And before you say anything, you had that coming.”

Once she was back on her feet, Jules was keen to return to the game but before long she gave up hope of actually scoring. Instead, she swapped out her usual tactics and played a different kind of strategy, adapting to the game that everyone else seemed to be playing. She gave as good as she got, smacking into the other team as fast as she could and knocking them out of the way before she even sought the ball. 

Half time was spent getting out of the bubble - which was not easy - and picking up any stricken players. They barely had time to catch their breath and get back into their gear before the second half was upon them.

At that point, proceedings deteriorated into utter chaos and the game became free-for-all of sending other players flying rather than actually playing properly. Shouts and laughs echoed around the hall and Jules felt herself laughing too, completely breathless, abandoning any pretence of proper football. 

All in all, it was hot, sweaty work, and Jules leapt at the chance to take a shower afterwards, especially when she realised that there was only one changing room for them all to use. That meant one thing: she’d get to see Yaz. It was noisy, as usual, with players from both teams reliving the highlights of the game, primarily who got knocked over the most, or the hardest, rather than who actually managed to score any goals.

Jules clocked Yaz almost immediately and found a space next to her, striking up conversation as she started to remove her kit. 

“I have a feeling you planned that assault with Bill,” she said, and Yaz grinned. 

“I told you you’d regret being so cheeky,” she murmured. The room was loud enough that nobody would hear them, anyway, but Jules could understand why Yaz was being cautious.

“I didn’t come after you, though. I was good.”

Yaz narrowed her eyes, obviously thinking back to their previous conversation.

“You’re right. You may be in luck, then.”

“Yeah?” Jules grinned, looking around the room. She and Yaz were slower to get undressed than everybody else; some women were already out of the shower cubicles but there was something of a small queue forming. Others had abandoned the idea of a shower given the queue and headed home for one instead, leaving a few people behind. Jules tipped her head towards the queue. 

“I’ve packed towels and a change of clothes. Shower with me?”

Yaz blushed and accepted a towel, joining the queue with Jules. They happily joined the end and deliberately lingered when the queue moved forward, so that only a handful of people still remained when the next cubicle became free. 

“After you,” Jules nodded towards the free stall, and Yaz looked disappointed until she realised that Jules was following her.

“Thanks for the massage this morning,” Jules said as she started the water. Both of them flinched as the powerful spray cascaded over both of them, soaking them within seconds. “I should return the favour at some point.”

“That would be nice.” Yaz smiled when Jules ran her hands up her arms. “When were you thinking?”

Jules answered her with a kiss, swallowing Yaz’s sighs as she backed her up against the wall.

“Right about now,” she suggested, delighted when Yaz nodded eagerly and pulled her close. The noise of the shower didn’t quite drown out the conversation from the changing room, although Jules couldn’t quite make out the actual words; they’d have to be careful. 

“You think you can be quiet?” she murmured, and Yaz nodded again before she pulled Jules’s face back towards hers with wet hands, sliding her tongue into her mouth as Jules nudged her legs apart. The moment her fingers touched the slick between Yaz’s thighs, Jules had to stop herself from moaning at the feel. 

“God, you're wet. Is that all for me?”

Yaz nearly smacked her head off the wall as Jules pressed over her clit with a firm rub that made her legs buckle.

“No, being in a giant, inflatable bubble really does it for me,” she gasped, and then her brows pinched as Jules entered her. Her resultant moan was more than loud enough to hear over the running water.

“Shh,” Jules warned as she started to pump her fingers in a way that she knew would get Yaz off. But she was only half serious; she enjoyed seeing and hearing just how undone she could make the other woman, and when she crooked her fingers she grinned as she felt Yaz’s fingernails leave indents in her skin. Whatever she did with her hand, Yaz mirrored with her own until she got so loud that Jules started to laugh. 

“Shut up,” Yaz moaned, and then she clamped a hand over her own mouth as she struggled to keep quiet at a particularly enthusiastic thrust.

“I didn’t say-”

“Jules?” A voice rang out in the shower room. Donna’s. Of course it was. “Are you still in the shower?”

Jules rolled her eyes and slowed her pace but she didn’t stop. Instead she watched Yaz as she replied. 

“Missed a bit,” she replied nonchalantly, pressing firmly and surely against Yaz’s clit with her thumb. She was sure Yaz would have glared at her if her eyes had been open; instead they were screwed shut and Jules could tell she was struggling to keep quiet, judging by the way her nostrils were flaring over her hand. Apparently she was pressing so hard on her own mouth that breathing was becoming difficult.

“Missed a bit of what? We were playing indoors,” Donna replied, clearly confused. 

“Donna, get out of there!” hissed someone who sounded very much like Martha. 

“What?”

There was the sound of muffled conversation and then the sound of Donna being distinctly unimpressed.

“Oh for god's sake, Jules. Sorry, Yaz!” 

Donna’s footsteps finally receded and Jules kept an ear out for sounds of anybody else but it seemed the changing room had been vacated. No wonder Donna had come looking for her - her bag was probably the only one left outside.

Jules started to laugh at the visual but Yaz was so close that she let go of her mouth to grasp Jules’s arm, encouraging her to keep going. 

“I'll kill you if you stop now,” she threatened, tilting her head back in a silent signal that Jules knew just how to respond to. She dipped her head and lavished attention on Yaz’s neck as she finally brought her off.

“Fuck,” Yaz bit out, tensing, her mouth falling open as she braced her back against the shower wall. Jules held Yaz steady with her other hand as shivers raced up and down her body, which was otherwise frozen in time as she came around Jules’s fingers. 

After a long moment the tension finally released and her chest started heaving. The sound of Yaz’s rapid breathing echoed in the stall as she recovered her senses; Jules waited until she was steady before she reached for some shower gel and lathered it up. She took her time spreading the foam over Yaz’s skin, her touch gentle but assured as she helped her clean up. 

“Where did that come from?” Yaz sighed, wrapping her arms around Jules’s neck for support. Jules abandoned her task as she looped her own arms around Yaz’s waist. It was probably the most satisfying and least successful shower of her life; Jules realised she hadn’t even cleaned herself up. 

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “When you’re around me, I just…” she trailed off, uncertain how much she wanted to reveal. 

“I think I get it,” Yaz smiled softly at her, dopey from the endorphins and probably wiped out from playing bubble football. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s kind of scary, feeling so out of control. But in the best kind of way,” Yaz rushed to reassure her. “Not to make a pun, but this bubble we have together? I really don’t want it to burst.”

“It might have to eventually,” Jules conceded, “or we’d probably lose all of our friends.”

Yaz sighed as she acknowledged her point. “But for now, can we keep it? For as long as we can, anyway?”

“For as long as we can,” Jules agreed. Like Yaz, she was reluctant to let real-life responsibilities get in the way of their time together, but she knew that eventually they’d have to. They had to live lives that involved other people. For the time being, though, Jules could only focus on the right here and now; when that involved Yaz, she was more than happy to ignore everything else. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would thoroughly recommend bubble football, it’s SO much fun. The only time I’ve played it was on a stag do and the boys were so hungover that it gave me great pleasure to send them flying (although they still managed to return the favour quite happily). 
> 
> As always, you can find me on Twitter (@_mag_lex) and Tumblr (maglex)


	34. Domesticity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little shorter than usual but next chapter is a doozy so enjoy the fluff! <3

They went on even more dates, each one a roaring success, to the point where Jules started to relax more and more in Yaz’s company and worry less about screwing things up. She could feel her defences lowering with each successful date, aided in large part by the way in which they couldn’t keep their hands off one another. 

Despite their best efforts, real life eventually started to intrude and creep around the edges. Yaz was unlucky enough to pick up a week of night shifts towards the end of her probation, and she couldn’t switch them out in case she risked the ire of her supervisor at a crucial juncture. At the same time, Jules had to work overtime when several of her colleagues went off sick with a nasty bug. Still, they managed to spend every spare minute they could together, which was no mean feat given their hectic schedules and especially when it was complicated by football practice. Those precious hours alone with Yaz were more than enough to sustain Jules through a couple of particularly heavy shifts at the end of her week. As much as she loved her job, when patients died in her care she always felt it. With the absolute highs of saving lives came some serious lows when she couldn’t, and it never got easier. She took her duty of care very seriously.

It was dark when Jules finally emerged from the automatic doors of the A&E entrance, two hours after her final shift was meant to have ended. The night air was brisk and it helped clear her head as she stood there and let it wash over her. At the very least she needed to liven up before she got in her car and started driving, but the brief reprieve was just long enough to make her consider visiting Yaz. Once she'd thought of the idea it was hard to put aside so she pulled out her phone and confirmed Yaz was at home. They were meant to have a rare evening apart - mainly because Yaz had an early shift the next morning and she wanted Jules to get some decent sleep - but at that moment in time, all Jules wanted was to see Yaz. She had a feeling she wouldn’t sleep well, anyway. 

Yaz took one look at Jules's face when she opened the door and kissed her soundly, tangling her fingers in the hair at the nape of her neck as Jules pulled her into the hug she so desperately needed.

"Bad day?" 

"Bad day," Jules confirmed, and Yaz shot her a look so full of sympathy that Jules didn't quite know what to do with it all. So she let Yaz run her a bath and fuss over her, even though she was too drained to explain what had happened. She didn't want to bring her work home with her or offload it on Yaz, but she was impressed by how well Yaz had learned to read her without pushing for an explanation.

Yaz lingered as she undressed and sat on the edge of the tub as Jules sank into the hot water with a relieved sigh. She'd spent all week on her feet and she positively ached.

"Are you hungry?"

Jules shook her head as she played aimlessly with the bubbles, her mind wandering. She had lost any appetite she would normally have had by the end of her shift and although she knew she needed to pay attention to Yaz, Yaz wasn’t demanding it: she was just letting Jules be, which was precisely what she needed. Jules was pulled from her thoughts when Yaz started to strip off next to the tub. 

"Scoot up." 

Jules did just that and waited for Yaz to settle behind her before she reclined, sighing as she felt the soft press of breasts against her bare back. Yaz didn't speak but simply traced mindless patterns into her skin as they laid there in the warm water; Jules felt her mind start to slow as she soaked up the comfort that Yaz was offering. The only sound was the occasional drip from the bath tap and the sound of bubbles melting away. Once the foam had dissolved completely Yaz started to talk, but rather than ask Jules what had happened she told her instead about one of her plain-clothes colleagues, who'd managed to lock themselves out of their car at the start of their shift. 

By the end of the story, Jules had almost forgotten why she was so sad; her mental image of the body on the gurney was buried under much more entertaining thoughts of someone she'd never even met being arrested by a rookie officer for attempting to break into their own car. Yaz had somehow managed to make her laugh and Jules left the bath feeling lighter, like the burden on her conscience had been alleviated just by being in Yaz's company. Later that night, Yaz wrapped herself around Jules and ignored her protests of never being the little spoon. Once Jules realised that it was actually quite nice to be held by Yaz, she never protested again.

* * *

Jules had more to say for herself when she turned up at Yaz’s flat one evening the following week to find Yaz sporting a black eye and a foul mood, both of which she tried and failed to hide. 

Just as Yaz was getting better at reading Jules, Jules had started to understand Yaz a little better. Small things, most of the time, like how she enjoyed her coffee in the morning, which side of the bed she preferred to sleep on, and that Yaz always liked to ask her how she slept because she was concerned that Jules still had bad dreams. Jules would gloss over the latter because she didn’t want Yaz to worry, or to feel somehow responsible for them still occurring, even if they had reduced in frequency.

“Jesus, Yaz. What happened?” Jules cupped her chin in her hand, already scanning the damage. It looked fresh and painful. She could tell Yaz’s first instinct was to pull away and hide, and that she had to override it. 

“I promise my bedside manner is half-decent,” Jules joked, trying to ease the tension. She’d never seen Yaz quite so withdrawn before but she knew how to deal with reluctant patients and she turned on some of her patented charm. “I’m not going to go after whoever did this, as much as I’d like to.”

She guided Yaz to the kitchen and pulled up a chair at the table, guiding Yaz into it. 

“He was about twice the size of you so I don’t think you’d do too well,” Yaz sighed, sinking into the chair as Jules rummaged in the freezer for a cold pack. 

Jules felt queasy at the thought of Yaz facing up against someone physically larger than she was. Although she knew Yaz could handle herself, the bruised skin around her eye socket was a stark reminder of just how dangerous her job could be. Both of their jobs could be, in theory, but Jules was grateful that she’d managed to avoid some truly sticky situations at work.

“I don’t know, Yaz. I’ve got a pretty strong kick and my aim isn’t bad, I think I’d get him in the balls before he knew what hit him,” Jules said as she placed the pack against Yaz’s cheek, holding it there with a murmured apology when Yaz tried to pull away on instinct at the cold. 

“Just a few minutes to take the swelling down, it’ll be worth it. Did someone at work take a look at this for you?”

“Nah,” Yaz sighed, and her hand came up to rest on Jules’s own. It felt like a concession or some kind of apology for trying to pull away. “I said I had my own personal doctor at home.”

“You should know that I charge extra for house calls.”

Jules was relieved to see something akin to a smile on Yaz’s lips. She had a feeling that Yaz was none too happy that she’d been injured on duty and was probably beating herself up about it. 

“Really? What kind of payment do you take?”

Jules pretended to consider the question. 

“For a black eye, one kiss.”

Before Yaz could reply, she leaned in and placed a kiss on her uninjured cheek. 

“I thought it’d be the other way ‘round." Yaz was fully smiling when she pulled back and Jules was relieved to see something of her usual self return. 

“It’s the best kind of medicine, kissing it better. Studies have shown it’s true.”

“I hope you don’t go around kissing all of your patients.”

“Only the ones I like.”

Yaz raised an eyebrow. 

“...and there’s only one I like enough to kiss on a regular basis,” Jules amended.

“That’s more like it.” 

* * *

One afternoon they were both so tired that halfway through watching a film on Jules’s couch, they fell asleep. Jules's stomach woke them up over an hour later and Yaz giggled at the sound.

"You hungry?" Yaz yawned, still half asleep and reluctant to move. Her head was in Jules's lap but it meant she could no doubt hear it broadcasting that it needed food.

“Always,” Jules sighed, scrubbing at her eyes as she forced herself awake. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep but it had felt so nice to run her hands through Yaz’s hair, and the weather outside was so damp and cold that being wrapped up and cosy indoors made her reluctant to go out for dinner, as they’d planned to. 

“Pizza?” she asked, hoping Yaz would be on board. 

“Sounds good,” Yaz agreed instantly, “with extra pineapple?”

Jules had already added it to their order. “Like you even have to ask.”

“Knew I was onto a winner,” Yaz sighed happily as she turned over to face Jules and scratched lightly at the side of her stomach while she spoke to it. “Don’t worry, we’ll feed you soon.”

Jules almost dropped the phone when she felt Yaz's face so close to the seam of her jeans. 

“Alright there?” Yaz looked up as she sensed her fumble.

“For a second, I thought you were speaking to...you know…” Jules trailed off, cheeks pink, and completed the order before she got completely distracted.

Yaz frowned but when she turned back, she realised just where her face was. 

“Ohhh,” she drawled, and then her hand was reaching for the zipper. “How long have we got?”

Jules almost dropped the phone again when Yaz popped the button. “Er...13 minutes. They’re quick.”

Yaz’s face crumpled slightly. “I take it back. Fuck the pizza.”

“I’d rather fuck you,” Jules grinned, taking advantage of Yaz’s surprise to guide her upwards and onto the other side of the sofa. 

“We don’t have enough time,” Yaz protested as Jules tugged down her jogging bottoms.

“We have plenty of time for what I want to do to you,” Jules replied, and then she proved to Yaz just how efficient she could be. 

Yaz was still recovering when the doorbell rang and Jules leapt to her feet, more than a little pleased with herself. She knew she’d make up for their hurried fumble later on but she’d wanted to show off and show off, she had. It wasn’t like Yaz was complaining.

“You better keep your strength up for later because I want you to do that again,” Yaz said when Jules returned, delivery box in hand. She narrowed her eyes at the box, clearly considering something. 

“Pizza is better cold though, right?”

* * *

When Yaz started to stay over semi-regularly Jules decided to clear a drawer for her. It was easier if Yaz could keep things there, especially when their shifts clashed and they had to snatch whatever time they could. But when Yaz made an offhand comment about how tidy her flat was, and about how devoid it was of personal items, Jules decided that she much preferred staying at Yaz's flat. After all, Yaz had prints on her walls and comfortable blankets that smelled like her and knick knacks that Jules liked to look at. While Yaz prepared lunch one Saturday afternoon, she inspected pictures of Yaz’s family and recognised her sister from when she’d seen her at the airport, which meant that the older couple standing in the background were presumably Yaz’s parents.

Just as she was about to ask, Yaz’s phone rang. She stopped chopping and wiped her hands on her apron, shooting an apologetic look at Jules before she left the room to take the call. 

Jules made a conscious effort not to eavesdrop but she could tell from Yaz’s tone that the conversation was stressing her out a little. Without even realising what she was doing, Jules started to edge towards Yaz’s bedroom door, which she’d left open.

“No, I’m not at home. Save yourself a drive, mum. I’m at the shops.”

Jules felt her stomach clench. Why was Yaz lying?

She heard Yaz draw the conversation to a close and moved back towards the kitchen, wondering what she’d overheard. Yaz joined her a few minutes later, properly dressed in some jeans and a shirt, rather than the short shorts that Jules loved seeing her wear. The apologetic look was back.

“Alright?” Jules asked, trying to keep her tone neutral. She didn’t much like being kept out of the loop and she was naturally curious. 

“Something's come up with my mum. I'm really sorry, but I need to nip out and take her something. But I'll be back in half an hour or so? And I’ll finish making lunch...and then we can make out?” Yaz suggested. 

She was fidgeting with a ring on her finger - a nervous tic that Jules had started to notice - and Jules forced herself to relax. Yaz wasn’t lying to her, at least; her mum really had been on the phone because she’d overheard Yaz calling her that, and presumably that was where Yaz was going now. She rummaged in the cupboards, pulling out a jar of spices to take with her.

Jules realised she wasn’t missing out on much of anything, by the look of things. Just a simple request for ingredients.

“Not gonna say no to making out,” she grinned, “especially if you wear those shorts again.” 

Yaz clearly knew her weak spots, which normally would have made Jules wary, but it just so happened that most of them were to do with Yaz herself. And right now, she wasn’t going to deny Yaz anything.

“You’re amazing,” Yaz beamed at her and left Jules with a lingering kiss, the kind that made her brain short-circuit when she felt the tease of a tongue at her lips. Yaz didn’t protest when Jules slid her hands into the back pocket of her jeans, squeezing lightly as she prolonged the kiss and left Yaz breathless. 

“And you’re trouble,” Yaz groaned as she pulled away, resting their foreheads together. 

“Little old me?” Jules laughed, watching as Yaz reluctantly pulled away and reached for her leather jacket, which was hanging by the front door. 

“You always make it so hard to leave you,” Yaz grumbled as she slid her arms into it. “How do you do that?”

Jules had found herself in a similar dilemma of late. Whenever she and Yaz parted ways she’d feel a pang, like it physically pained her for them to be apart. 

“It must be because I’m so utterly charming and incredibly hot,” she quipped. It was all too easy to fall back on her usual mechanisms rather than actually give a serious answer, although she knew she needed to stop resorting to them or she’d run the risk of looking like she wasn’t taking things seriously enough. She’d have to work on that but to her relief, Yaz didn’t call her out on it this time around.

“And modest.” Yaz surprised her by returning for another farewell kiss. “You’re not wrong, though,” she murmured, pecking Jules on the nose before she finally departed.

While she waited for Yaz to return, Jules made an effort to push aside her concerns over the little white lie. Her best guess was that Yaz’s parents didn’t know about her, or that Yaz didn’t want her parents meeting her just yet. Either way, Yaz surely had her reasons, and she’d tell Jules about them when she was ready.

When Yaz did eventually return, she did exactly as she’d promised: she changed back into her short shorts and sat on Jules’s thighs on the couch, cupping her face in her hands and kissing her so thoroughly that Jules sent up a silent thanks to whatever higher power had granted her superior lung capacity. Her hands were down the back of said shorts when the smell of their lunch burning finally pulled them apart and Jules couldn’t stop laughing as Yaz ran to the kitchen to turn off the oven before the smoke alarm went off. 

“Not funny,” Yaz huffed, but Jules could see she was trying not to smile. She cracked open the kitchen window to vent some of the smoke and shivered as cold air from outside streamed in. 

“I’ll keep you warm,” Jules offered. She opened up her arms and welcomed Yaz back into them, peppering her face with kisses and apologies. 

“Now, we were in the middle of something, weren’t we?”

* * *

Jules was icing her knee when Yaz dropped by a few nights later, on her way back from a late shift and bearing a giant chocolate bar and a bottle of wine. Jules hadn’t expected gifts and she had a suspicion that Yaz felt guilty for running out on her the previous weekend. She’d been texting more than usual over the past few days, too, but Jules had tried not to read too much into it. Any concerns she might have had dissipated when she saw Yaz on the other side of her door.

“Hey, babe. I brought post-match supplies,” Yaz greeted her tiredly, brushing a kiss against Jules’s cheek as she stepped through and into the flat. It was past midnight and it had been yet another long week.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Jules grinned, comforted by the familiarity with which Yaz navigated her flat. It made sense, given how much time she’d spent in it of late, but it still took Jules by surprise every time; that someone was that closely interwoven in her life that they could essentially make themselves at home in it, and by extension, act like they were at home where Jules actually lived. 

Jules just about managed to disguise the limp but it didn’t take long for Yaz to spot the bag of frozen peas she’d abandoned on the kitchen counter on her way to answer the door. 

“Tough game?” she frowned, giving Jules a once-over. She spotted her swollen knee almost straight away. 

“Little bit. Just flared up,” Jules shrugged it off, but Yaz could clearly tell it was paining her. 

“I don’t know about you, but I feel like an early night and you need to rest that knee. Want to come to bed?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Jules replied. But they were both so tired by the lateness of the hour that rather than have sex, they agreed that some naked cuddling would be just as satisfying. 

Jules found herself tracing the contours of Yaz's body as she drowsed. 

“What are you doing?” Yaz mumbled, struggling to stay awake. 

“Roll over a sec.”

“Too tired.”

“I just want to see something. For science.”

Yaz huffed out a laugh and obliged, shifting onto her front and turning her head so she could watch Jules as she shuffled closer. 

“Who am I to slow scientific progress?”

Jules started by tracing the curve of Yaz’s shoulders, then the notches of her spine. Her mind supplied the numbers of her vertebrae and the Latin names of all the tendons and muscles out of habit, but she didn’t bore Yaz with the details. She catalogued them all mentally, marvelling at the body beside her. Yaz hummed happily and her eyes drifted closed as Jules traced down her back, just like Yaz had done to her weeks ago, when she’d given her a massage before they’d played bubble football. 

When Jules reached her lower back, her fingertips dipped into the dimples there and Yaz giggled. 

“That tickles.”

Jules smiled as she kept going, moving down Yaz’s legs. Her touch was light and delicate, not sexual in any sense. Yaz’s legs were warm and smooth and strong, but Yaz was also soft in all the right places and before long Jules couldn’t resist kissing the skin she was tracing. 

Yaz shivered when she felt the gentle pressure against her skin. 

“What are you up to?” she murmured, eyes half open as she tried to see what Jules was doing. 

“Committing you to memory.”

“I'm not going anywhere.”

“I know, but-”

Yaz rolled over, drawing an end to Jules’s exploration and stopping her in her tracks before she could say anymore. Jules was momentarily sidetracked by her beauty.

“Come here.” She pulled Jules in for a cuddle, resting her head on her shoulder and sighing contentedly as she ran her fingers through the soft hair at her temple. 

“I'm not going anywhere,” Yaz repeated herself. “And I'll keep reminding you of that, every day if I need to. Ok?”

Yaz was so earnest and soft that Jules let herself believe it. She didn't want Yaz to go anywhere and she snaked an arm around her waist, keeping her close.

"Ok."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, you can find me on twitter @_mag_lex


	35. Missy (II)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't forgotten about our antagonist... she's been biding her time 😉

The bubble well and truly burst when Graham informed Jules at practice that their next proper game would be against Missy's team. When he broke the news to the rest of their team, Donna argued vehemently that Missy shouldn't even be allowed to play at all, but apparently the extent of her punishment had been an eight match ban. And now, she was back. 

Jules was dreading the upcoming game. At least she knew Missy wouldn't be so bold as to outright attack her as she had done last time - people would be more wary of such an approach - but that just made Jules anxious. After all, Missy had had plenty of time in the interim to concoct a plan and Jules was almost certain that she wouldn't come out of the game unscathed, one way or the other. 

Yaz was equally worried. 

"I'm coming to watch."

"No way, Yaz. You're not missing your own game for this." Jules knew that Yaz was also due to play that day and as touched as she was by her concern, she didn't want her anywhere near Missy. 

“They can sub someone else. Martha isn't playing either,” Yaz said, as if the answer was obvious. “You’re not doing this alone.”

“I wouldn’t be alone though,” Jules assured her. “I’ve got a whole team around me.”

“I don’t care,” Yaz replied, determined, almost exasperated. She had a stubborn streak that Jules was just starting to get to grips with and when it came to Missy, it apparently came out even stronger than usual. “Even if it’s the most boring game in the world, I want to see it with my own two eyes.”

To everyone’s surprise, the game in question was entirely uneventful. Jules even scored multiple times and Missy seemed almost nonchalant about several missed tackles; even when their goalie ceded several goals she really shouldn’t have, Missy seemed to find the whole thing more entertaining than anything. 

Her attitude set Jules on edge. 

At half time, Missy kept her distance. The second half was just as anticlimactic and culminated in a respectable score of seven-nil. Jules was utterly bemused when she grabbed her water bottle after the final whistle, taking a healthy swig as she caught her breath. 

“What was she playing at?” Donna asked as she also took a drink, eyeing Missy with disdain. “You think she’s up to something?”

“I have no idea,” Jules replied. She cast a sideways glance at Missy, relieved to see that her attention was elsewhere as she hung around with her own team. “Maybe she’s come back to the league with her tail between her legs.”

“I doubt it,” Donna scoffed. “My money would be on her trying something when we let our guard down. Or the next time Rory referees.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not letting my guard down around her. Ever.”

“Glad to hear it,” Donna smiled, patting Jules on the back. “Since you’ve made it out of this in one piece, I think we should celebrate with a pint. What do you say?”

Instinctively, Jules looked for Yaz in the stands and gave her a wave when she found her. Yaz waved back seconds later, still wrapped up in Jules’s rainbow scarf so she’d be easy to spot. 

“I dunno, Yaz is here,” she hesitated, distracted by the sight of the woman in the stands. Although she’d not wanted Yaz to miss out on her own game, she felt a lot happier with her there, even if nothing dramatic had actually happened.

“Yaz should come,” Donna replied, catching Jules off guard. 

“Really?”

“I want to talk to the girl who’s put that ridiculous smile on your face. I need to make notes for the next time you’re in a mardy mood.”

But Jules barely heard her. Her gaze was still fixed on Yaz, and to the person who was now walking towards her: Missy. 

“What’s wrong?” Donna asked, confused by Jules’s lack of response.

“Nothing,” Jules replied, feeling the blood drain from her face as Missy struck up a conversation. Yaz did not look happy to see her and Jules knew she'd tell Missy exactly what she thought of her if it came down to it. But what was Missy doing talking to Yaz in the first place? By the look of things, the conversation was not a pleasant one: quite the opposite, it looked heated to say the least. Jules could see the shift in Yaz’s body language and her protective instinct kicked in. 

When Yaz and Missy both turned to look at her, she swore. Donna finally clocked what was happening.

“Why- what’s she doing over there?”

It all made sense, now. Missy had put two and two together and made an even four. She’d gone fishing when she’d seen Jules eyeing up Bill’s team in Leeds. And Yaz had been in the stands on the day Missy had targeted Jules, stormed onto the pitch when she’d been tackled, and taken her to hospital. Missy had been patient; she had weeded out who Jules was closest with, and it had worked. By helping her on that fateful day she’d broken her collarbone, Yaz had walked straight into a trap. 

Donna was equally confused as to what was going on, but she didn’t try to stop Jules from storming off towards the stands, making a beeline for Yaz and Missy. It was almost as if Missy knew she was coming, even though her back was turned; she walked off before Jules could reach them and although Jules wanted to catch up to her and ask what she was playing at, the expression on Yaz’s face stopped her dead. She looked shell shocked.

“No, no, no,” Jules muttered as she neared her. “Yaz? Yaz, what’s wrong?”

Yaz shook her head, as if she hadn’t quite heard her, and Jules reached out for her. To her relief, Yaz didn’t pull away.

“Yaz? Are you ok?”

Yaz shook her head again, and Jules felt her heart sink. The muscles under her hands tensed as Yaz went rigid, clearly uncomfortable, and Jules loosened her grip until her hands fell back to her sides. 

“I don’t know.”

Jules could feel panic starting to make itself known. Missy had obviously said something to upset Yaz and she fought the urge to chase after her and find out what. Yaz was more important, and Yaz could tell her.

“Yaz, what did she say?”

“Nothing,” Yaz replied, but she wouldn’t make eye contact and Jules desperately wished she would. Every second that passed without it left her feeling more and more uneasy.

“Your face is saying something different, Yaz,” Jules pleaded. “Please, tell me?”

Yaz sighed and when she finally looked at Jules, she looked so lost that Jules had a horrible feeling about what was to come.

“I don't even know where to begin. She told me so much about you that I didn't even know…that I probably should have known, or thought to ask, before this got so...serious,” Yaz blinked, and Jules realised she was shivering. It was a sunny morning but it was still March, and there was a chill in the air. 

“Come on, hop over and we’ll go inside.” Jules patted the barrier at the front of the stands. 

“I’m good,” Yaz said. “We can talk here.”

Jules wished there wasn’t such a physical barrier in between them but she wasn’t going to force Yaz to move. 

“I bet half of what she said isn't true. I can tell you that much right now, Yaz.”

 _Ask me_ . _Just ask me, and I’ll tell you._

But it was too little, too late; when Jules reached for Yaz’s hand, for some kind of connection, Yaz pulled away. 

“She told me you were fired. That people died and you blamed it on her.”

Jules started to laugh in disbelief but a flare of anxiety took over when Yaz frowned at her response.

“What? Yaz, that’s ridiculous. You don’t believe that, do you?” 

“Some of what she said must be true because it lines up with what little I do know.”

Now it was Jules’s turn to shake her head, speechless. Yaz continued, undeterred. 

“Is that why you left that hospital? They all knew you so well when we went to A&E that day.”

Jules took a breath. She knew that Yaz must be thinking irrationally if she was taking Missy’s word for things, but she also knew just how convincing Missy could be. She’d fallen victim to that before, in the very situation that had led them to this point. All Missy had needed to do was say just enough that was true, to imply the rest, and she’d lead Yaz down the garden path. She’d state enough facts to leave Yaz wondering about what was left unsaid, and Yaz would have had no idea what was coming. Dealing with Missy was something of an art form, which Jules unfortunately had experience with; but Yaz would be an easy target for someone like Missy, simply because she had no idea how to handle her.

“It’s a long story. Can we talk about this somewhere else?”

It really was cold; Jules could feel her legs starting to turn blue as whatever warmth she’d generated on the pitch left her body. They were alone in the stands but they were within earshot of Jules’s team and Jules just knew that Donna and Graham would be waiting for her at the very least. She didn’t want to have this conversation in public.

“Why? We can talk here.”

Jules bit back a sigh. 

“I'm not sure why you're taking her word for it,” she said. Yaz’s stubbornness was starting to make her anxious. But it was the wrong thing to say because Yaz was also rattled and becoming frustrated with Jules’s non-answers.

“Why won’t you just tell me, Jules? Why did I have to find out from her? There must be some truth in this because you aren’t denying it. You've been warning me about her for so long, but why? I thought you were worried about me, but now I don't know if it's because she knows things about you. Things that I don’t know. Things I probably should know. Things you don't want other people knowing.”

Yaz was breathing fast, as if the torrent of words was working her up, and Jules knew she had to keep a level head to defuse the situation. Yaz had a point, after all, but not for the reasons she thought. From her point of view, Jules had wanted to tell Yaz about things in her own time, not to be rushed. She would tell her everything, eventually, she knew she would. But they’d been having fun and getting to know one another at their own pace, and deep down Jules had been terrified that Yaz would run for the hills if she told her about the amount of counselling she’d failed to go to after the incident. That she had even told Yaz about the IED was unusual in itself - the only other people who knew were Graham and River, she’d never even told Bill. And Yaz was the only person Jules had let sleep in her bed ever since the incident.

How could she explain that to Yaz in a way that would make sense right now? Jules quickly realised that she couldn’t. She’d have to try a different tactic to safely navigate them out of such treacherous waters.

“She's dangerous, Yaz. She’s obsessed with me. She never even played football before this. I swear to you, she’s only doing this to get at me. Think about it. Think about what you're saying.” 

There was one thing Jules daren't say because she knew Yaz wouldn't understand.

_She’s targeting you to get at me, too._

But even as she pleaded with Yaz to see sense, Jules was frustrated with herself. She should have known Missy would try something like that and she hated that Yaz had been targeted. Even worse, Yaz seemed to believe it. 

“Why does she have it out for you though? And just you? Why is she so obsessed with you, Jules? Something clearly happened.”

As always, Yaz was switched on and smart and she didn’t like vague answers. Whereas previously she might have given Jules a free pass, today she had run out of them. 

Jules looked around to confirm that their audience wasn’t within earshot. She could see Graham watching them with concern a short distance away.

“Believe it or not, we used to be friends. But one day, at work - we used to work at the hospital together, that much is true - I found some paperwork she'd filled out incorrectly. She'd tried to hide a mistake.”

“And?”

“And…” Jules sighed. “I didn't say anything when I should have done.” 

Jules had been struggling with her own issues at the time, barely making it through her shifts. She’d been so exhausted, physically and mentally, that all she could focus on was getting through the day in one piece. As a result she hadn’t trusted her judgment, and Missy had successfully passed off human error as an accidental death. 

“I thought I was wrong but then it happened again…”

“Please tell me you did something?” Yaz searched Jules’s face for confirmation.

Jules nodded, relieved that they hadn’t lingered on her own mistakes. 

“When I had suspicions she'd actually killed patients, I told our superiors. But Missy found out - I don't know how, she shouldn't have known - and she turned around and tried to pin it on me. We were both suspended for the length of the investigation and she almost ruined my career, she tried to drag me down with her. It was messy but in the end, _she_ was fired, not me. You have to believe me, Yaz. She got struck off, and I kept my job. But I left when it got ugly because it was the best for everybody, and because I thought someone else was in on it. I didn't want to leave, I was happy there. But I did. She's a nasty piece of work.”

Jules exhaled shakily. She hadn’t ever fully discussed what had happened since she gave evidence at the tribunal that led to Missy’s suspension. She hoped the truth would put Yaz’s mind at ease, at least.

But to her dismay, Yaz still seemed upset and she found out why only moments later.

“Did you not want to leave because of River Song?”

Jules tried not to flinch at the mention of River. It felt odd to hear Yaz say her name.

“Missy also said that you were sleeping with the nurses.”

Jules would never deny that she’d had one or two flings at work, mainly because her life had been falling apart and she’d exorcised her demons in ways that were accessible and legal. As a general rule they’d been rare, one-offs when she’d had a bad day. And she’d been single, nowhere near ready for a serious relationship; what she’d had with Bill had been far too one-sided and River was the closest she’d come to anything serious, despite all the complexities of that particular arrangement, but even then she’d kept River at arm’s length. 

Yaz was the first person she’d ever let get close. But Jules had paused for too long, trying to figure out what she should - and should not - say to her.

“It's true isn't it?” Yaz’s lip wobbled and Jules realised she was trying hard not to cry. 

Jules couldn’t help but wonder what had upset Yaz most because she clearly needed to prioritise her responses. The discussion had become exponentially more complex within mere minutes and Jules was scrambling to keep up with the ammunition Yaz was firing at her. She knew that she needed to do some damage control, first and foremost, but she could also feel her walls starting to rebuild. The barrier between them became something of a reassurance, rather than an obstacle. She had worn her heart on her sleeve and it was starting to get bruised.

“Yaz, she’s trying to cause problems. Push your buttons. She wants to ruin my life because she thinks I ruined hers."

“You keep saying that but you're not answering the questions, Jules. The way she described River...she was the woman at the bar, wasn’t she? We never even talked about whether we were seeing other people. Sleeping with other people. You aren’t, are you? Are you still seeing her? Did I get this completely wrong?"

Jules took a step back when she realised just what Yaz was implying. No matter how many questionable life decisions she’d made, Jules was not a cheater and it appalled her that Yaz might even consider that to be true. She had a sinking suspicion that no matter what she said now, Yaz might not believe her, and all because Missy had somehow managed to worm her way in. It was infuriating.

“Of course I'm not sleeping with anyone else! Yaz, how could you even think that?”

Jules was offended and now she could feel herself going on the offensive. The mounting irritation and frustration she’d been feeling about the situation was starting to break through because the conversation was rapidly slipping out of her control. It was not going as she'd expected. It had spiralled, rapidly. Most of all, she was hurt that Yaz didn’t trust her. She wanted nothing more than to tell Yaz how she felt but Yaz was hitting all of her weak spots with unnerving accuracy.

“I don’t know, you have a bit of a reputation for getting through women,” Yaz replied, but she seemed to regret the words as soon as she’d uttered them because her face twisted in an expression that was reminiscent of remorse. 

Jules felt like she’d been punched in the gut. Missy may well have weaponised the one person in her life that she’d let in, but Yaz didn’t need to twist the knife like that. Now Jules could practically feel her defences flying up in a hurried attempt to shield her from further damage.

When she’d first met Yaz, Jules had been worried about making a good impression; she’d had a horrible feeling that what had happened with Bill had made her the subject of gossip and rumours, and kissing River on a team night out probably hadn't been the best idea. She’d even told Yaz about her concerns, one evening when they were in bed together, and now she wished she hadn’t because Yaz had just used it against her. 

Jules straightened up. She’d changed, even just in the past few weeks of knowing Yaz, of being with her. Had Yaz not noticed? Jules had tried so hard to open up for her. Perhaps not as quickly as Yaz might have liked, but she’d tried. She'd thought they were on the same page. Apparently not.

“That's not particularly fair, Yaz. Things are different now. I'm different.” 

Jules could feel the urge to run becoming stronger, surging within her. She’d done it before plenty of times before, but she didn’t want to do it now. It would be a last resort. She needed to protect herself and casting people aside was always an easy way to do that, but she wanted to fight for Yaz, even if she was stung by what she was saying. 

Yaz remained quiet, and Jules was on a roll. She recalled the way Yaz had left the room to answer her phone, and the way she’d left Jules alone when she’d visited her mum. She fought back with a jab of her own, an educated guess but one that landed.

"I’m not the only one keeping secrets, Yaz. Your family don’t even know about me, do they?"

To Jules’s satisfaction, Yaz looked incredibly guilty. Her mouth dropped open in surprise, and Jules sensed an in.

"Listen to me. I don’t want to lose what we have, Yaz. Yes, we need to talk if we want this to work, but not here and not now."

Jules was certain she could feel someone else watching them and she turned to find out that she was correct. Missy was hanging back, watching them. Smirking.

"See?” Jules pointed at her, livid. “This is just what she wants, Yaz. I was going to tell you. I really was.” 

It was true; Jules just had to convince Yaz that was the case.

“It's just that things were going so well and there was never a good time to bring that kind of thing up. It's in the past, Yaz."

"But there never is a good time, is there?” 

Jules felt herself deflate when Yaz argued back. She’d thought her points might be sinking in, that Yaz was coming around. 

“Why did I have to find this out from Missy? It shouldn’t have to be like this."

They’d reached a stalemate. Both of them were clearly hurting and upset and Jules clenched her jaw as she suppressed a shiver. She didn’t want Yaz to see how vulnerable she felt.

Yaz sighed, folding her arms in a move that left Jules feeling cold for an entirely different reason. She still couldn’t quite believe things had spiralled so fast and now Yaz seemed one step too far removed for her to resolve the situation. She'd slipped just out of reach. Jules was coming to realise that her own feelings on the matter may not make all that much difference to what Yaz was thinking, and that stung more than anything.

“Look, it almost doesn't even matter what happened, Jules. But what worries me is that sometimes I think I don't know you at all. There's so much hidden and at first that was exciting, you know? Getting to know you. But sometimes it’s so hard. You won’t open up to me, and I need you to, just a bit, if this is going to work. Maybe we need to slow things down.”

“What?” Jules spoke, but the word sounded like it was coming from far away.

_“I'm scared, Yaz.”_

_“You don't strike me as someone who scares easily.”_

_“I'm not. This just feels different to anything else. Everything else.”_

_“Yeah. I think I know what you mean. We're in this together, Jules. I’m with you. Whatever happens.”_

Their night together in Berlin had been the best night of her life but Yaz’s words rang hollow. Did Yaz not like what she saw now? Had she changed her mind now that she knew more about Jules? It didn’t seem like she truly would stick by her side, whatever happened. It seemed like she was going to walk away.

All Jules could hear was the thud of blood in her ears. Panic was well and truly bedding in, out of her control. She’d been so wrong. Perhaps it hadn’t been a honeymoon period for Yaz; perhaps, for the first time, Jules’s feelings weren’t reciprocated in quite the same way. Jules was gutted. 

Yaz shook her head again but she looked just as devastated. Jules clung onto that. It gave her hope that Yaz might come around; that she might realise she was wrong about things.

“Missy might have stirred shit up but it’s obvious that we need to work on some things, Jules. Look, I...it just surprised me, is all. I just need some time to think.” 

Yaz straightened; their conversation was apparently coming to an end, but Jules wasn’t ready for that to happen.

_Stay, Yaz. Don't leave._

“Yaz, please-” Jules reached for her one last time, to no avail. Yaz almost stumbled as she pulled back.

“I need some time to think. Alone.”

_“You always make it so hard to leave you. How do you do that?”_

This time, Yaz turned and left without even looking back. One second she was standing there, eyes brimming with tears, and the next she was gone. 

Jules felt empty. Her legs were rooted to the spot but she couldn’t feel them. They were numb from cold but then she couldn’t feel much of anything when the bottom had dropped out of her universe. The only thing she could feel was an ache in her chest that burned and grew until it was almost too painful to bear. 

_This_ was why she didn't let people get close.

Jules clamped her arms firmly around herself and stared at her boots, willing herself to pull it together. But her boots swam, blurry, and became even harder to see when a couple of stray tears escaped. Jules quickly wiped her eyes before anybody could see, and trapped her thumb in her mouth in a nervous habit that she’d broken several years ago. She worried at a hangnail with her teeth until she tasted copper. It lingered, just like Yaz's words, and she spat the blood from her mouth, desperate to get rid of the taste.

She had no idea how long she stood there, frozen in place, but eventually a voice drifted over.

“Trouble in paradise?” Donna joked, but Jules couldn’t handle humour right now. She couldn’t even look at Donna and she started to stalk off towards the changing rooms, ignoring the wobble in her legs.

“Jules? What was that about? Jules!” 

Donna shouted after her and then there was a hand around her arm, the grip tight enough to stop her in her tracks. Jules spun on her heel, furious at being trapped.

“Go away, Donna.”

But Donna wasn’t easily deterred, even if she was shocked at the outburst. 

“If you’re using my actual name, something’s wrong. What on earth just happened?”

Jules shrugged irritably. She could feel the anger receding, only to be replaced by a wave of immense sadness, but Donna wasn’t letting up. 

“You're not getting rid of me that easy, you know. Talk to me.”

Jules pulled one last time before she gave up on her plan of escape. As always, Donna was right - she was impossible to shake at the best of times - and they were still too far from the changing rooms for Jules to make it there before she lost it. She had no choice but to come clean. Perhaps it would help. 

“I think...I think Yaz just ended it.” 

On any normal day, Donna’s look of shock would have made Jules laugh. Not today.

“What? You're joking?”

Jules shook her head, forlorn.

“Oh my god. Alright, Jules?" Donna pulled her into an abrupt hug that Jules didn't know what to do with. They rarely hugged and her arms stayed rigid by her sides, inflexible.

"We’ll fix this, you hear me?” 

Although Jules was relieved that Donna had finally grasped the gravity of the situation, she had no idea how they would fix things. She had no idea how _she_ would fix things.

“You’re coming with me," Donna continued. "There’s a pint with your name on it, and you and me are gonna put the world to rights, yeah?” 

“I can't take jokes right now, Donna,” Jules grimaced, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve. Donna gracefully ignored her tears.

“For once, I'm not joking. Things will be okay, Jules. I know they will. Come on, I'm buying you a drink. You look like you need one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish Donna would buy me a drink, I could do with one after writing that :')
> 
> As always, you can find me on twitter @_mag_lex.


	36. Pub

The first pint took the edge off and by the third Jules was moping, rather than reeling. She could handle that a bit better, mainly because she’d had quite a bit of practice at being miserable, but she couldn’t remember when she’d felt quite so awful. Jules traced the condensation on her glass. She’d changed into warmer clothes and the pub was hot with the press of several bodies, but she still felt cold through and through. 

The ache in her chest also persisted but it was now accompanied by the bitter taste of the cheap lager that Donna insisted on buying. Jules hadn’t put up much opposition and had instead let Donna install her in a quiet corner of the pub while she made repeated trips to the bar. 

“So what were her actual words? Remind me again,” Donna frowned as she took a drink. Jules knew Donna was humouring her. They’d gone over the conversation multiple times but she was still hurting from it and it helped to talk it through.

Jules sighed wearily.

“She said she needed some time to think. Alone.”

“I really don’t think it means what you think it does,” Donna commented. “Needing space isn’t the same as breaking up.”

“I know, but you didn’t hear her, Donna. She was so upset. What she was getting at, the things she was saying - she doesn’t trust me. And-”

Jules stopped short as she felt a bubble of emotion well up in her chest. She waited until it had calmed before she continued. 

“And if she doesn’t trust me, what’s the point?”

Jules realised she was starting to slur her words together, but Donna was as good as her word and gave her space to think aloud. 

“The point is that you like each other. A lot. That’s the point right there,” Donna jabbed her finger on the table for emphasis. “You just need to let her figure it out, give her time, like she asked for. Don’t crowd the girl. And maybe you can think about it too, you know? I know that bitch stuck her oar in,” Donna continued, referring to Missy, “but it must have struck a nerve with Yaz. Maybe now’s your chance to make good.”

“Putting her oar in is putting it mildly,” Jules scoffed bitterly. Missy had left a trail of destruction. She wondered how Yaz was doing but that line of thinking was not going to help. The only thing she could do was what Donna had suggested: think about what Yaz had said and use it to move them forwards. She wasn’t going to let Missy try and ruin her life again. But in the meantime, the last thing she needed was for her teammates to find out. 

“Please don't tell anyone,” she pleaded. “I don’t think it’d help anything, the gossip and the speculation.”

“My lips are sealed.” Donna mimed zipping them. “But I think things will straighten out, before you know it. Metaphorically speaking.”

“Your jokes need work, Noble,” Jules groaned, but she found herself half-smiling. The alcohol had kicked in, giving her a bit of a buzz, and Donna Noble always managed to cheer her up. 

“But it made you smile, eh?” Donna nudged her with her elbow, almost sending the top inch of Jules’s fresh pint into her lap. She ignored her muted glare. “That's what I wanted to see.”

The barman rang a bell at the end of the bar, signalling last orders. Jules was surprised to realise how late it was; she’d been sitting in one spot for the past three hours, and they’d flown by. It put paid to the concept that time only flew when having fun, but at least Donna was good company and could put up with her dour mood. 

“Right, one more for the road?” Donna asked, already out of her seat and half-way to the bar before Jules could respond. She was swamped within minutes, surrounded by several other drinkers who were keen to squeeze one more in. Jules shrugged and downed half of her pint, grimacing when the fizz made her chest feel tight. At least it masked the discomfort she’d felt there since Yaz had left. 

Jules eyed her phone, which was lying just out of reach on the table in amongst several empty pint glasses. Her compromise with Donna was that she leave it in plain sight, to assure Donna that she wouldn’t text Yaz. The alternative was that Donna confiscated it for the evening, which was the last thing Jules wanted. If Yaz did get in touch, she wanted to at least know about it. 

And now her phone was lighting up with an incoming call. 

Jules practically slammed her glass back on the table, hoping against hope that it was Yaz. Her disappointment segued into surprise when she saw the name on the display. Donna hadn't told her not to respond to anyone else and she wondered why this particular person was calling. They hadn't spoken in a long time. She swiped the screen and put the phone to her ear.

“River?”

Jules caught an enthusiastic motion out of the corner of her eye and looked up to see Donna miming at her from the bar to put the phone down. Luckily for Jules, she was only just being served and unable to move without difficulty. Several disgruntled customers grumbled about her energetic arm-waving and Jules could hear Donna’s equally energetic reprimands as she got to her feet and headed outside for privacy, pressing the phone firmly to her ear to cancel out the background noise. 

“Jules. I just bumped into someone I think you know, in the hospital cafeteria...Martha Jones? She told me what happened, that Missy hurt you? Is that right?”

River was straight to business and Jules paced as she tried to sober up in the cold night air. Exposure to the elements would help clear her head, especially since it was the first time she’d been on her feet in over an hour and they were proving to be less cooperative than usual. It took her a few moments to gather that River was referring to the incident that had sent her to A&E with a broken collarbone, rather than the fresh injury she’d inflicted earlier that afternoon.

“Yeah, she ran into me playing football.” 

“It sounds like she more than ran into you. Did you know she turned up here at the hospital not long ago, sniffing around? Security had to escort her out of the building. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think she’d go anywhere near you, but I realise now that I was wrong. I can’t believe she even has the nerve to show her face here after what happened,” River muttered, and Jules could hear her indignation down the line. It made her smile to hear it. She hadn’t spoken to River in several months but it was like they’d talked only yesterday; speaking with her was always easy. 

“But why didn't you tell me you were hurt, Jules? Are you alright?”

Jules kicked at a cigarette butt, wondering how honest she should be. 

“I didn't think it'd be fair to dump that all on you. We don’t have that kind of contact anymore.”

River sighed heavily down the phone. 

“Regardless of what happened between us, I do care, Jules. Did you want to talk about it?”

Jules stopped pacing. On the end of the line was somebody who knew all about Missy. Who understood what she was like and the utter chaos she could cause. Who would know that Jules was telling the truth, and who had helped her the last time that Missy had caused trouble on such a grand scale. It dawned on Jules that she could do with a sympathetic ear, and she knew River was mature enough to handle what she would need to tell her, because she’d need to hear about Yaz. The thought of Yaz triggered a fresh wave of sadness and Jules felt her breath hitch painfully.

“Jules?”

“Yeah?” It was only one word but it gave the game away. River picked up on the tremor immediately.

“What’s happened?”

The door to the pub flung open and Donna Noble stumbled out of it, looking frantic. 

“Can you come to mine?” Jules murmured, but Donna clearly overheard because she glared at her, unimpressed. She had such an expressive face that Jules would normally find funny, but not today. 

“Jules!” she hissed, hands on her hips, face like thunder as she watched Jules end the call and pocket her phone

“It wasn’t Yaz,” Jules explained, although she wasn’t sure how much she wanted Donna to know. Both of them were more than a little tipsy, especially in the fresh air, and she didn’t much care to find out Donna’s thoughts on the matter. 

“Oh,” Donna deflated. “Well, who was it, then?”

“An old friend,” Jules replied cagily. 

“River?” Donna guessed too easily.

Jules tried not to let on that she was right, but she knew her face had given the game away. Donna groaned.

“Look, Jules, whatever you’re doing here, be careful. Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

But Jules already knew that nothing was going to happen with River that night, not that it was any of Donna’s business. If anything, she was a little hurt that Donna assumed it would, but she knew getting into that topic of conversation after several pints would be a bad idea.

“I just need advice.”

“Oi, my advice is good!” Donna countered, apparently convinced that Jules wasn’t going to do anything foolish. 

“Your advice involves getting me drunk,” Jules pointed out, weaving slightly as she brushed past Donna to get her coat. 

“You saying that doesn't help?” 

“Alright, Noble. I need to speak to someone who knows Missy, that’s all.”

Donna seemed mollified by that.

“Well then, mate. Best of British to you,” she said, clapping Jules on the back. “And no talking to Yaz tonight. Deal?”

Jules laughed as Donna stuck out her hand but she shook it. There was no way she’d do anything to jeopardise her chances with Yaz, tipsy or not. 

* * *

River was already waiting for Jules when the taxi pulled up outside her flat block. She took one look at the way she was walking and raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. 

“Please tell me you don’t have work tomorrow.”

Jules realised with dawning horror that she hadn’t even considered that possibility but when she recalled that it was still technically Saturday and that she did indeed have the next day off. It had just been such a long day that it felt like three rolled into one.

“I’m not that drunk,” she replied.

“Tell that to your legs. I’m assuming that little session wasn’t planned?”

Jules shook her head as she recalled just why she’d gone to the pub in the first place. 

“Shall I put the kettle on?” River eyed her sympathetically.

“Probably for the best,” Jules admitted as she fished for her keys. Although the more self-destructive side of her wanted to keep going, she very much needed to not only talk to River but also remember the conversation in the morning.

It felt strange to have River in her flat again, moving around the place like she used to. Jules busied herself tidying the coffee table while the water boiled; Yaz’s half-read book was still face down on the surface, a bad habit that Jules had been appalled by and attempted to stop, to no avail. She found a scrap of paper to serve as a bookmark, hopeful that Yaz might actually pick up where she left off and that that would happen in the near future. 

She remembered Yaz reading a passage from that book to her, her feet in Jules’s lap as she’d put on a different accent for one of the characters. Jules hurried to hide the paperback out of view but it was too late; the memory was too fresh and far too painful and she knew River heard her quiet sob when she reappeared moments later. 

“Oh, no,” River sighed when she saw her face and opened her arms. “Come here.”

Jules didn’t resist the hug because it was precisely what she needed. The only person she truly wanted a hug from was Yaz, but Yaz was not there and River was a familiar, comforting presence. She muttered quiet nonsense as Jules held on tight, eyes stinging. Even though she was in her trademark heels, River stayed firm, holding Jules steady as she gathered herself. 

“What happened?” River finally asked as she pulled away, fixing Jules’s hair in a gesture that came to her like it was second nature. Jules wondered if this had been such a good idea, after all; it was confusing to have old memories of River mixed in with fresh memories of Yaz. Both hurt, although the thoughts of Yaz hurt most of all.

“You don’t need to tell me, but it might help. Or I can tell you about my day? We had an interesting time in theatre.” 

River told Jules to take a seat while she made tea and some toast to sober her up. And after a few bites and some sugary tea - she knew River was worried if she had conceded to her sweet tooth - Jules felt slightly more human. Her head was starting to ache, a sure sign that her over-indulgence with the beer was making itself known, but that was preferable to feeling as out of control as she had at the pub. For this conversation with River, Jules needed all of her faculties. 

“So,” Jules began, and she cleared her throat. “That thing you talked about in the bar the last time we saw each other...it happened.” 

_ "You’ll tell me, won’t you? When it happens. Because it will. When you find her. That woman I can never be. Because there won’t be room for both of us. _

“That’s why I haven’t been in touch. I didn’t know how it was going to go, to be honest, so I didn’t want to say anything…”

“I wish you’d told me earlier,” River replied. “How long has this been going on?” Her tone was borderline defeated, if unsurprised. Jules was relieved to see that she didn’t seem upset, at least. 

She mentally totted up the weeks, surprised when they added up into several months. Had she given River the cold shoulder for that long, too? 

“A few months.” 

“That would explain why I haven’t heard from you since last year.”

Jules grimaced. River was being very polite when she had every right to be upset, but then again, River always had masterful control over her emotions. She was a surgeon through and through, always one step ahead and good at dealing with a crisis. 

“Who is she?” River didn’t sound jealous, but she was obviously curious. Jules smiled as she recalled Yaz slumped over a table, worse the wear after too many shots that Martha suggested she’d taken because she’d seen River and Jules together. How things had changed.

“Remember that girl in the bar? When we danced?”

River smirked and Jules knew just what she was thinking. River had clocked it from the get go, after all.

“I had a feeling something was going on there.”

“I wish I had your abilities to see these things,” Jules admitted. Such insight might have saved her a lot of time spent worrying that Yaz didn’t like her.

“It’s always easier from the outside, sweetie. So, tell me everything.”

Jules started to tell River what had happened with Yaz, from the start. It was ironic, really, because she should have been opening up to Yaz. But she was talking  _ about _ Yaz, and that was so easy that she almost couldn’t stop once she'd started. When she moved onto Missy’s involvement, Jules could see River’s expression change. 

“I knew she was up to something,” she spat. “How dare she? I wish she’d just leave you alone.”

River reached for her hands and gave them a sympathetic squeeze. 

“And that’s why you’re drunk? That happened today?”

Jules nodded. It had felt like the longest day of her life.

“I think you've fallen for Yaz. Think about it. How you feel. You were pulling away from me for as long as you’ve known her.”

Jules wanted to protest more than anything but River silenced her with a patented look. 

“Don't start, I'm not finished. I told you it would have to happen eventually. And I'm glad it's not just over some fling. I can tell how much she means to you. It’s written all over your face.”

Jules shook her head in disbelief. She knew River would take things reasonably well but this was far more than she’d expected or felt like she deserved. She wasn’t sure she’d be so willing to entertain such a discussion of an ex’s new flame. 

“Why are you being so nice to me?” she asked. The emotions that were bubbling away at the surface - her feelings for Yaz, her distress at the events of the afternoon, and her frustration with Missy - were momentarily surpassed by surprise that River was being so kind. 

“You don't want the honest answer to that,” River replied, and Jules saw a flash of hurt that explained everything. 

All along, she’d had the feeling that River was far more invested in their arrangement than she was; at the time they’d started hooking up, Jules had very much needed an escape and River had been the most glorious escape mechanism. To this day, Jules still felt guilty for the way their arrangement had come about, even though they were both adults who had discussed the limitations of what they could pursue. But with Yaz, Jules had wanted to stop running and feel what it could be like to let someone in. She just hadn’t communicated to her how she’d really felt about it.

And now, Jules had an inkling of just how River felt because Yaz had just made her feel the same way.

“I think it’s time I left you to it, though. You’ve had a long day and you should get some sleep. It will help, especially with the hangover.”

River placed her mug back on the coffee table and stood in one fluid motion, and Jules remembered just why she’d been drawn to her to begin with. Her elegance and power were matched only by her mind, but it was her mind that had been their undoing; Jules was never too comfortable with just how well River could read her.

Jules stifled a groan as she also stood. She’d forgotten to stretch after the game and it really had been a tiring day. Her body was screaming for a rest, even if her mind was not quite ready to switch off. Jules knew she couldn’t ask River to stay and talk for longer, but the thought of being alone was also not appealing. She helped River into her coat.

“I’ll see you around, River,” she said, although she wasn’t sure that would be the case. River glossed over her suggestion entirely.

“Don’t worry. Yaz will come around. You have good taste.”

Jules smiled at River’s compliment to herself.

“You know, I was always punching when it came to you.”

She lifted River’s hand and kissed the back of it in farewell. With her free hand she blindly opened the door, pleased when River laughed at her gentlemanly behaviour. Any lingering tension lifted. It was exactly what Jules had hoped for: a genuinely fond farewell, because she had a feeling she wouldn’t see River Song any time soon.

What neither of them realised was that they had an audience. Somebody was standing on the other side of the door when Jules opened it, hand half-raised as if to knock.

“I timed that well, didn’t I?”

Jules startled when she realised who was standing in her hallway. It was just like the time she’d turned up after Berlin, surprising Jules on her doorstep with a kiss. But Jules knew she wouldn’t be getting a kiss this time; she glanced at River, who looked equally surprised at their sudden company, and realised exactly how things looked. 

“Yaz? What are you doing here?”

Jules mentally kicked herself. She blamed the beer making her head fuzzy; she had one brief moment to make her case and she’d blown it by asking a stupid question.

“I actually came to apologise, but it looks like I was right.” Yaz’s tone was so brittle that Jules actually flinched. Yaz turned to River. 

“You. I know you. You’re River Song, aren’t you?” Yaz swivelled back to look at Jules, her beautiful face marred by shock. “How could you, Jules?” 

And then the look of shock and disappointment on her face was replaced by pain. Jules felt her own face crumple with the realisation that she’d just made things worse. 

“How could you?” Yaz sobbed, her face falling. Jules could see it happen almost in slow motion, in exquisite detail, and she wished she could look away from the mess she’d made but she couldn’t. She felt her heart clench like an angry fist was squeezing it, ruthlessly.

Yaz shoved something into her hands and then she was running back down the corridor to the stairs. Jules looked down to see her rainbow scarf and her mind went blank. The scarf threw her; the surprise of seeing Yaz on her doorstep at the worst possible moment threw her even more, and she knew she should run after her but then logical thinking finally kicked in. 

She didn’t want to argue in public, and that was inevitably what would happen if she followed Yaz. Nothing she could say would help, she knew it wouldn’t, and especially not when she was so muddled from her pub session with Donna. She knew just how bad things looked, and she also knew that Yaz wouldn’t believe anything she had to say. She hadn’t earlier that day; although appearances could be deceiving, they had also confirmed Yaz’s fears and made them real. How on earth was Yaz going to trust her now?

River made a sympathetic sound behind her. It wouldn’t be fair to run out on River, either, but Jules had never felt so torn. She’d had to watch Missy stride away, leaving such damage in her wake, and now she’d had to watch Yaz literally run from her. It was starting to feel like indecision was literally tearing her apart. 

“Ah. I'm sorry, Jules.”

Jules wrung the scarf in her hands. She felt utterly powerless, trapped in a corner she’d painted herself into. 

“Don't be. You did nothing wrong,” she murmured numbly. She abandoned the scarf on her coat rack when she could smell Yaz’s perfume on it. 

“And neither did you. Please don't forget that. Do what you need to do, Jules, but don't forget to look after yourself.”

The only thing Jules could think of to fix things was a time machine. But this was a fixed point, and she knew she was always going to look back on it with regret. Yet another memory to haunt her.

“You know me. I always find a way.”

“And that’s what I’m worried about,” River frowned. “I hate to leave you like this.”

Jules forced a smile. She was never very good at handling concern. 

“It’s alright, River. You’ve helped so much. I mean it.” 

River scrutinised her for a long moment and backed down. 

“Somehow I don’t think that’s true, but will you let me know how things go? I mean it. I hope you can figure things out. Both of you.”

Jules felt the weight of everything come to rest on her shoulders once more. Yaz was no longer there to alleviate it; instead, Yaz had brought things crashing down around her and now she had to pick up the pieces and try to fix them. If she couldn’t, Jules was certain she’d be carrying that familiar burden for a long, long time. Alone.

“I hope so, too.”


	37. A&E (II)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, A&E staff in the UK (and elsewhere, I’m sure) can be targets of assault (see end of chapter notes for more reading) and this chapter and the first part of the next both deal with this subject. You may wish to skip it if this is not something you want to read. It's not graphic or sexual in nature, but there are minor hints of homophobia, drug and alcohol abuse and general unpleasantness, and I just want to flag it upfront. If you want to follow the story but wish to skip these chapters, just send me a DM on twitter and I can summarise for you! 👍 I've left my handle in the end of chapter notes.

Jules went through the motions. She gave up on calling Yaz when her phone started going to voicemail and switched to texts because even if Yaz was going to ignore her, it was less obvious than hearing the automated voicemail recording. Sending a message into the void still held the promise of a reply, and Jules knew she had to at least explain why River had been at her flat that night. She did, as concisely as she could. She told Yaz that River knew Missy and that she’d heard about what had happened, and that they’d talked. That was all.

Yaz did not reply.

Jules knew she had to be patient, but the one-sided conversation was starting to wear on her nerves, which were already frayed. So she’d scroll upwards, looking at their old conversations, just trying to get a feel for Yaz’s voice. She missed it. But she also couldn’t force things. She had to be patient, and hope that Yaz would be in touch when she was ready. 

That meant that she skipped football training. She wanted desperately to go and work on her penalties, because that was a tried and true method of clearing her head, but she didn’t want to risk running into Yaz and making her feel uncomfortable. It was safer if she just stayed in her usual circles, which meant work, work, and more work. 

Apart from work, the only other thing she did was sleep, or try to. She’d impulsively changed her sheets because they smelled of Yaz but she’d regretted it almost instantly, so she’d slept in one of her t-shirts instead. It was the Wombats shirt she’d lent her that fateful drunken night; Yaz had since claimed it as her own when she spent the night, and to all intents and purposes it was now hers. But Jules didn’t sleep well, and she knew she wouldn’t without Yaz in her bed. She’d lie awake and stare at the ceiling and picture Yaz’s face. The look of upset and betrayal at finding River at her flat that fateful night. 

But at work, at least, the constant stream of patients was a good distraction and Jules was good at compartmentalising through years of practice. She was glad she worked in A&E because there was never a dull moment, but that didn’t mean that she could entirely switch off; some days were easier than others, and this particular day was a bad one. 

The nurse with the crush on her, Kerry, was on shift and as flirty as ever so Jules gave her a wide berth. She consumed endless cups of coffee but they didn't clear the fog in her mind. Grace had picked up on just how much she was drinking and even though she was just as run off her feet as Jules was, she made a point to check in.

“You alright, love? That's got to be your seventh today!"

She was clearly trying to keep things light but Jules didn't want anybody worrying about her. She wanted to be left alone.

“I'm fine,” Jules smiled, her face tight. She glanced down at the clipboard in her hand, blinking at the scribbles that were apparently handwriting but refused to resolve themselves into anything legible. 

“Graham said you've been missing practice, and I know how much you love it. Is everything alright?”

Jules stiffened. 

“Yeah. Everything is fine.” She knew it was rude but she walked off before Grace could say more, muttering something about paperwork and hoping the excuse would fly. She knew she was probably putting her foot in it on a semi-permanent basis but she also didn’t want to think about Yaz while she was at work. She needed a reprieve from the self-flagellation that had been keeping her company over the past few days.

She frowned at the scribble on the paper again, which bore the name of her next patient, but gave up when she realised she could quite easily see him slouched in one of the chairs. From what the triage nurse had told her, he’d been brought in by his mates after falling off a kerb and hitting his head. But he was alone, none of his so-called friends in evidence, and Jules realised why when she drew near. He was drunk. Jules glanced around for the security guard and he gave her a curt nod, which put her mind at ease. He was clearly aware of the potential for trouble.

The man leered at her as she walked over and Jules resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Drunks were often harmless but they could be offensive, and she had a feeling that this particular patient would fall into the latter category. 

“You here to sort me out? Took you long enough, I’ve been waiting for hours.”

 _As if this day could get any worse_. 

“I’m here to give you stitches, yes,” Jules nodded, keeping her tone professional. She was used to dealing with patients like this and she knew just how firm she'd need to be if she was to get him seen to and sent home efficiently. But she also felt the last of any residual caffeine finally wearing off at the worst possible moment. Bone-tiredness followed rapidly in its wake and she suddenly had a longing for her bed. It was several hours away, though, and she had a job to do.

“If you’ll follow me, please?”

Thankfully, he could still get to his feet unaided. As they walked through the department, Jules realised that nearly every cubicle was occupied. The only space left was in a quiet corner, slightly out of view. She weighed up her options. She could either wait until there was a better space and risk irritating the man even further, or deal with him quickly and get him out of her department. As one of the senior doctors working that shift, Jules didn’t want him interacting with any of the other patients and ideally she’d minimise his contact with her colleagues, too. 

“If you’ll just take a seat for me.” 

Jules pointed to the bed and the man lifted himself onto it with a grunt as she drew the curtains around the cubicle, leaving a gap so that they were still in view. He didn’t seem to mind, to her relief, and she watched him out of the corner of her eye as she opened drawers in search of a suture kit. But his gaze weighed heavily on her and Jules could feel the hairs at the back of her neck stand on end.

He was what the nurses would call a wanker banker type, dressed in a suit but with his tie undone; too much product in his hair, designer stubble, and aftershave that Jules could smell from a mile away. She could picture him going to the pub at lunch and overindulging, but his world was so far removed from her own that she couldn’t quite imagine the circumstances that would lead someone to drink that much in the middle of the day. She certainly wasn’t going to ask him about it, but when she turned on a light and angled it over the wound, she realised his pupils were blown. 

“Jesus,” he protested, trying to shield his bloodshot eyes from the glare. Jules took a step back to give him some space and laid out the kit she’d need on a surgical tray.

“Have you taken anything? Other than alcohol?” she asked, snapping on some gloves. 

The man shook his head but his constant sniffing gave Jules a clue. That and his restless behaviour pointed to cocaine and she mentally started to run through the complications such a combination of factors could elicit. As she did so, she started to probe along the edge of the cut, focused on her task. It looked clean, and that made life easier. She suspected he wasn’t much going to like what was about to happen.

“Jules?”

She stopped momentarily. How did he know her name?

The patient pointed at her name badge and she wished he hadn’t seen it. She didn’t want him knowing her name, but it was better to keep him talking given the potentially dangerous combination of chemicals in his bloodstream and the head injury she was about to stitch shut. The last thing she wanted was for him to pass out. Regardless of her own feelings, he needed her help.

“That’s your name?”

“Yep. Hold still for me. This might hurt a little.”

She reached for the local anaesthetic and set to work as efficiently as she could. He hissed at the sting and bared a row of perfectly white teeth that reminded Jules of a predator. She worked quickly, eager to wrap things up. 

“What’s it short for?” he panted, gritting his teeth through the pain. “Your name?”

Jules wished he’d give up on the conversation. She didn’t like the way he said her name but if he kept talking, it made her life a little easier. 

“Nothing,” she replied, reaching for the needle and thread. “You might feel some pressure but let me know if this hurts, okay? And I’ll give you some more anaesthetic.”

He was, thankfully, quiet for a few minutes as Jules concentrated on stitching the wound closed, to the point where she started to relax a little into the familiar pattern. She liked to work with her hands and she could practically suture with her eyes closed, but it also meant her mind could start to wander as muscle memory kicked in. Maybe she’d over-reacted to him. She was a little strung out and over-exposed to people after endless shifts and no fun. And all she really wanted was to be with Yaz but she hadn’t seen her for days and it had made her tetchy, she knew it had.

Jules didn’t realise the train of thought she’d been following until her patient piped up again, and she pushed thoughts of Yaz to one side. She really couldn’t afford to get distracted right now. 

“Why the rainbow?” 

The man gestured to her lanyard and Jules froze. Her moment of reprieve had been brief and perhaps her gut instinct had been right, after all. It was far too close to his hand and it wouldn’t take much for him to just grab it. She kept her voice level.

“Because it’s colourful.”

“Not because you’re...you know."

Jules pulled too hard on the needle and he cried out in surprise. She berated herself for being careless but a massive red flag had shot up; it had been a while since someone had so blatantly and carelessly alluded to her sexuality at work. She looked sideways, only to see that her colleagues were all preoccupied and out of view. The nurses' station was too far away.

She risked a glance down to see that his eyes had taken something of a manic turn. Despite his discomfort he was still bearing a half-smile and Jules felt the mood shift. She realised she might have made an error in judgement by taking him to a quiet corner of the department. 

“Sorry,” she muttered, putting the last stitch in place with a sigh of relief. Her hands had started to shake but she couldn’t tell if that was from the caffeine and exhaustion or because he had put her on edge. She took a step back, finally removing her lanyard from his reach and putting some space between them. 

“Let me just get the dressing.”

Jules turned so that she was half facing away, stripping off her gloves so that she could dry her sweaty palms on her scrubs. As she did so, she passed over a solid object in her pocket and remembered her phone was there. She weighed up her options. She needed someone else to be there. It would be quicker to try and contact someone directly, and less likely to rouse suspicion than if she made her excuses and left. It would be better if someone kept an eye on this patient, too. It was just unfortunate that it would have to be Jules who did it.

Jules carefully slid her phone halfway out of her pocket, unlocked it with her thumb and pulled up her phone app. All of her most recent calls had been to Yaz and her thumb hovered over the name on screen. Three letters, her only tangible link to the person she wanted to see right at this moment. Yaz was the only person she wanted to call but her stomach turned to lead when she realised that Yaz was also probably not going to answer.

There was the sound of movement behind her and she pressed down anyway. If it went to voicemail then whatever was about to happen would be recorded. Besides, she didn’t have time or opportunity to find anybody else.

“What are you doing? Why did you take your gloves off? You're not finished.”

Jules turned to face him and startled at how close he’d gotten without her realising. The smile had dropped from his face, replaced by a look of anger. She took a step back, and then another, desperate to put some space between them but the cubicle was small and she bumped into the wall. 

“Nothing. Just switching my phone off,” she replied, willing her voice to stay calm. “It’s not meant to be on and I forgot.”

She slid it back into her pocket but the lit screen caught his eye through the thin material of her scrubs. 

“You should be sorting me out, not texting. You ain’t calling the police, are you?”

He was practically fizzing with barely restrained energy and Jules cringed as he took a step closer. Technically she was calling the police, but he didn’t need to know that. She thought of Yaz in her police uniform. 

“No.”

He closed the distance between them, so close that Jules could smell the alcohol on his breath. She cringed. 

“Can you take a step back, please? I need to get past.”

She heard the wobble in her voice and hated it. He heard it too, and he ignored her request. Instead he grinned at her, and she realised she was frightened of him. The power had shifted, but it gave her the adrenaline boost she needed to put some distance between them and she moved sideways, eyeing up her escape route. 

But the moment she did, his arm shot out with surprising speed and grabbed hers, squeezing tight. 

“Hey, that hurts," she winced, trying to remain calm. She knew things would escalate if she didn't. "Let go of me. Right now.”

Jules tried to adopt the tone of voice she kept for obstreperous patients but this one was clearly different. He was paranoid and unpredictable, and Jules had been cornered by him.

“Bet that doesn’t hurt as much as my head does,” the man sneered. "You're not much of a doctor." 

“Well in that case, let me go. We’re done here.” 

The man laughed but it sounded sarcastic and Jules knew he wasn't quite finished. She felt her phone weighing her pocket down. Would Yaz have picked up? 

“No we’re not done. You just called the police on me, I know you did. You’re lying.”

Jules felt her blood run cold at the way he suddenly seemed to loom over her. She hadn’t recalled him being that large but he was encroaching on her personal space to a massive degree, and he obviously wasn’t going to listen to reason. She needed to think fast but her mind had gone blank and she was rapidly running out of time. 

“Don’t you know who I am?” he spat, apparently impatient with her lack of response. “You don’t want to mess with me.”

That was her only warning; then a strong hand was wrapped around her throat and her head smacked into the wall behind her. He wasn’t squeezing hard enough to stop her breathing completely, but enough that he was going to leave a bruise and Jules found herself grabbing at his arm in a panic to get him off her. But her head was reeling from the contact with the wall and her vision was starting to go starry at the edges, and she couldn’t help but think of Yaz. 

Cold, hard fear gripped her when she realised that she wanted to see Yaz more than anything, and that she might not get to. But the thought of Yaz prompted another memory. One of a time that Yaz had been hurt by someone larger than herself.

_“I don’t know, Yaz. I’ve got a pretty strong kick and my aim isn’t bad, I think I’d get him in the balls before he knew what hit him.”_

Jules took her own advice, clenched her teeth, and kicked the man as hard as she could between his legs. She only had one shot and she could not miss. 

All of her penalty training came in handy and she hit her target. The moment she made contact the pressure around her neck evaporated and she gulped in lungfuls of air, wheezing as it passed through her bruised trachea. If she’d been able to breathe properly, she’d have laughed at the look of shock and agony on the man’s face but as it was, she could barely catch her breath as he crumpled to the ground, taking the surgical tray with him as well as one of the curtain rails. The metal clattered on the floor, creating a noise loud enough that Jules hoped someone else had heard it. 

Thankfully, Grace was there within seconds, looking confused and then alarmed at the scenario in front of her. 

“I need some help over here!” she turned and called out, eyes flicking between Jules and the man on the ground, who was still groaning in pain. Jules felt herself sliding to the floor, her legs weakening as the reality of what had just happened sunk in. She didn’t want to be anywhere near the man but she had no control over her limbs and she sucked in several panicked breaths, wishing for it all to be over. 

Several of her colleagues came running over, no doubt expecting some kind of medical emergency and finding something completely unexpected. 

“Jules? What happened?” 

Jules blinked, and Grace was in front of her. How had she got so close so fast? It was frightening that she’d not even noticed her approach. She was normally much more aware of her surroundings but recent events suggested she was too distracted for her own good.

“He-”

Her voice rasped as she tried to speak. Her throat was starting to hurt. 

“He attacked me.”

“Get him out of here,” Grace turned to the others and they hefted the man to his feet, ignoring his complaints that they were manhandling him and that he was far too important to be treated so improperly. 

Jules shuddered as she heard him go. 

“God, you’re shaking like a leaf. You’re in shock.”

Grace was talking to her, explaining what was happening, but to Jules it felt like an out-of-body experience. 

“Where did he hurt you, Jules?” Grace was talking clinically, like they weren’t friends, but she was being so gentle that her concern was obvious.

Jules shook her head. She was barely holding it together as it was, never mind when Grace looked at her so sympathetically. The situation had given her a real fright; normally she was in control but her life seemed to be slipping out of her hands, again. 

A warm hand on her wrist brought her back.

“Jules? Come on, talk to me.”

“Yeah?” The sound was gravelly and it rumbled in her aching throat.

“Can you tell me what hurts?”

“He...he grabbed my arm, my neck, hit my head off the wall.” It was easier to catalogue what had happened if she imagined it hadn’t happened to her. But the sound of her own voice, so detached and monotone, felt odd.

“I’m going to call the police.” She’d never heard Grace sound so angry.

That snapped Jules back to reality. She didn’t want anything to do with the police after what had just happened. She knew it was illogical but all she could think was that she’d be in even more danger if that patient found out the police were indeed coming. 

“Where is he?” she asked, frantically scanning the department. But all she could see were several pairs of eyes on her, concerned and confused about what had happened. The background noise of the department seemed to have ground to a halt, all activity frozen as her colleagues shot puzzled glances at one another. 

“He’s gone, love. It’s ok. You’re safe. Give me some space,” Grace said, and Jules realised that someone else was trying to step in and help. “She just needs a minute.”

Jules shook her head. She didn’t feel remotely safe. She’d just been attacked at work and now all she could feel was pity from her colleagues. She didn’t want anybody to see her. Her breaths were coming faster and faster, and she broke out in a sweat but she was cold and all it did was make her shiver. Her heart was racing and she felt like she was going to be sick. Jules knew that she needed to get out of there as a matter of urgency.

She pushed herself to her feet with the aid of the wall at her back, ignoring Grace’s directions to stay still to her detriment. Her sound and vision conked out at almost the same time and she heard Grace shout out like she was speaking through a wall, like she was coming from far away, and then there was nothing. 

* * *

Her head was pounding when she opened her eyes. 

Jules blinked slowly as she came to, confused about what had just happened. It didn’t take long for her brain to fill in the blanks and she felt panic flicker as she tried to figure out where she was. Was she safe? Jules corralled her racing thoughts and put into practice something she’d learned in the army. She paid attention to what her senses were telling her.

The padding under her back suggested she was no longer on the floor. Jules turned her head to see that she was in a private room, and that Grace was with her. She was looking at her watch as she took her pulse, and Jules realised they were alone. Even the main light was off; Grace had turned on a desk lamp, instead, avoiding the horrible fluorescent glare of their normal lighting.

“There you are,” Grace murmured when she saw Jules’s eyes were open. “You gave us a bit of a fright.” Grace returned her arm to the bed and Jules tried to use it to push herself up, but the other woman was having none of it. 

“Not again,” Grace put a cautious hand on her shoulder. “Just rest. You hyperventilated and it made you faint. Give yourself a minute, alright?”

Grace tilted her head and Jules knew she wanted to ask if anything like that had ever happened before. It hadn’t, but Jules felt the consequences of it all too clearly; she felt utterly wiped out. 

“Would you like anything? I think there are still some custard creams left at the main desk.”

Jules nodded. She wasn’t remotely hungry but she knew some sugar would help.

“And some sweet tea. That’s a given,” Grace smiled, and patted her on the hand. “But before I go...the police are here to take him away. And,” she held up her hands, pre-empting Jules’s reaction, “I really think you should talk to them.”

Jules shook her head and it made her woozy. Grace wasn’t budging, this time.

“They need to take a statement, love. There’ll be footage from the security cameras,” she grimaced, “but it would be good to have your version of events.”

“I'm fine.” Jules muttered the words by rote. 

“No, you aren't,” Grace disagreed. “You haven't been fine all week, either.”

Grace was right, and the thought of how upset she’d been about Yaz was what made Jules weaken, in the end. The last thing she wanted was for her professional integrity to be called into question unchallenged. She felt something of her old self return, and it gave her the confidence she needed to take the necessary step. 

“Alright. I know someone. She’s police. But only her. I’ll only speak to her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.theguardian.com/society/2019/sep/04/violence-nhs-staff-face-routine-assault-intimidation
> 
> As always, you can find me on twitter @_mag_lex


	38. Refuge (II)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I mentioned in the previous chapter, this chapter includes the aftermath of assault. You may wish to skip if this is something you don't wish to read. I can give you an outline if that would be preferable, just ping me a DM on twitter @_mag_lex and I'll fill you in. Going forward there will be nothing but happier times :)

Bill was there within half an hour.

Grace ushered her inside the room and left them to it but Jules barely noticed her departure. She was too distracted by Bill's reaction to her appearance, which was one of shock. Briefly, she wondered how she must look. 

"Oh my god. What the- Jules, what's happened?"

Bill crossed the room in three easy strides, but drew up short when Jules tensed at the sudden movement. She was perched on the edge of the bed but her feet didn't quite reach the floor. She felt small and vulnerable and Bill suddenly seemed so tall and imposing and loud that she had to actively stop herself from flinching.

"Sorry," Bill apologised, grimacing when she realised how Jules had reacted. "I’m sorry, I didn't think. Are you ok?”

Jules nodded, but it wasn’t entirely true. She was shaken and more than ready to go home, but she also didn’t want to go back to an empty flat. She was in limbo.

“They wouldn't tell me on the phone, just that you'd asked for me and to get here as soon as I could. But I heard them say there'd been an incident, over the radio. That was you?"

Bill looked more than a little upset when Jules nodded in affirmation. 

"Jesus. I wish I'd been there to arrest him myself." Bill frowned as she looked around the room, which contained only the two of them. "Is Yaz not here yet? Are you sure you’re alright?"

Jules ignored her first question for the time being, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. She could not get warm and the two empty mugs of tea on the desk beside her had been entirely ineffective, both at warming her up and at soothing her throat.

"I'm alright. Better, now." Her voice sounded hoarser than usual and Jules cleared her throat, willing it to go away. It was an unpleasant reminder of what had just happened.

"You do look a bit peaky. But really, where's Yaz? I’m surprised I got here before she did." Bill seemed awfully concerned about where Yaz was and Jules realised she was no longer going to be able to dodge the question. She shook her head, trying to avoid Bill’s gaze because she could predict just how she’d react when she heard the answer.

"She’s not here."

Bill instantly reached for the radio clipped to her fluorescent police vest.

"No!" Jules protested when she saw the movement, panicked, her arm outstretched even though Bill wasn’t within touching distance. "Don’t." Her voice finally broke over the word.

In truth, Jules was embarrassed that Bill was seeing her like this, but with Yaz it would no doubt feel worse - even if Yaz was the only person she actually wanted to see. But Jules wasn't quite sure how she'd react to seeing Yaz again, especially under these circumstances. 

"She can't see me like this. I just needed to see a friendly face and apparently I need to give a statement. I'd rather do that with someone who knows how these things work."

Bill tilted her head as she abandoned her radio for the time being, but Jules knew she wasn't quite off the hook yet. 

"What happened? I can see from here that he's laid hands on you."

Bill's mouth twisted in a moue of displeasure and Jules could sense thinly veiled anger bubbling away beneath the surface. She didn't blame Bill for feeling that way; she was angry, too, angry at the principle of it. Angry that it had happened to her. But her anger was not controlled - instead it was interspersed with cruel jabs of fear, nausea, and pain, which culminated in a tiring cocktail of emotions that she could barely wrangle. With each passing minute in Bill’s company, Jules could feel herself struggling to wrestle with it. She normally kept a much tighter reign on her emotions but ever since Yaz had come into her life, Jules had realised that even after years of practice, she could no longer hide how she felt as effectively as she once might have done. Recent events had worn her down completely, making her feel raw and adrift, so it helped to see some of them mirrored by Bill. It helped her feel like her response was normal.

"He was drunk,” she sighed as she mentally revisited their interactions. “I could tell something wasn't quite right from the first moment I saw him, but he was off his face on something else, hopped up and paranoid. He finally snapped when he thought I was calling the police on him."

"Well he'll be getting to know the police a lot better now." Bill had started to pace, clearly angry. 

"What'll happen to him?"

"He'll be in custody for 24 hours and charged well before that time is up, I’d imagine.”

Jules nodded. It was small comfort, and even Bill knew it.

"I'm so sorry, Jules.” 

Bill finally stopped her pacing to pull up a chair and sit on the edge of it. She braced her arms on her knees, leaning forward in a way that Jules knew she’d been trained to do; in a way that was non-threatening and approachable. She kept a reasonable distance but Jules could tell she was struggling to do even that. That was more like the Bill she knew - empathetic and sympathetic and so caring. Jules sniffed and squeezed the blanket closed with her fingers. They felt numb.

"Jules...why would you not want Yaz to be here?"

Bill's tone suggested she was trying to ask as carefully as she could but there was no other way around it - it was an obvious question, and one that brought to mind a look of betrayal on Yaz's face as she'd stood on the other side of Jules’s door that fateful night. 

Jules shrugged again, not trusting herself to speak. It already felt like she was hanging on by a thread. Somehow it was even harder to talk about what had happened with Yaz.

"I'm not sure what's going on but I think she'd want to know what's happened. I think she needs to be here, and I think it would help you. Wouldn't it?" Bill was pleading with her now, trying to meet her eye. Jules reluctantly met it and felt her stubbornness ebbing away when she saw the concern in her eyes. Bill was Yaz’s friend, after all. She knew how Yaz would feel about this.

Jules nodded slightly, her only acknowledgment of the fact that she did very much want to see Yaz. And if Bill thought that Yaz should be there, perhaps she had a point.

“She isn't going to judge you,” Bill continued, trying a different tack. “Far from it. And I’m sorry to say it but I reckon she might find out eventually. Not from me, but at the station.”

Jules blanched. 

“What?”

“I’m not saying it’d happen for certain but it’s always a possibility. I heard chatter over the radio but didn’t quite put two and two together until now. But hey, she could be there when you make a statement, if you like? That might make it a bit easier.”

Jules chewed at her lip, which she’d already torn open as she waited for Bill to arrive. The fresh tang of copper on her tongue gave her something else to focus on.

“She’s on duty today,” Bill continued. “They split us up a bit to switch up the rota before we pass probation, but I know she's out and about in one of the cars. She can be here soon. All I need to do?” Bill gestured to her radio, “is press this button.” 

Jules realised that it really would be that simple - that the press of a button was all that was keeping Yaz from her. Regardless of what had happened between them, she knew Yaz would come. She was lucky that she hadn’t already picked up the call to haul her attacker away and Bill was probably right; it would only be a matter of time before she found out. At least this way, Jules would have some degree of control over it.

She shivered and Bill’s thumb edged closer to the button. 

“Alright.”

Jules dropped her hands to her lap as she finally caved, catching a flash of Bill’s reassuring smile before she left the room. She could hear a snippet of conversation when the door opened and closed as Grace brought her some more water. 

“She's alright but you should get down here. Like, now.”

The rest of the conversation was lost but it didn't matter; Jules could only imagine how Yaz was reacting to what Bill was telling her. 

Grace gave her a brief visual once-over, apparently satisfied that she was already looking better. 

“She seems like a good friend."

“Yeah,” Jules agreed, and she realised it was true. Bill was her friend, in spite of what had happened. “She really is.”

“I need to go and check on some of the junior nurses but it looks like you’re in good hands. You’ll let me know if you need anything?”

“Of course.”

Bill wasn’t gone for long and when she returned, she looked somewhat relieved. Jules realised that it was probably something of a load off if Bill didn’t have to keep things secret from Yaz. 

“You must think I’m daft.” Jules inspected her hands as Bill settled herself in the chair again. 

“Far from it,” Bill disagreed. “But can I ask you something? Why did you call for me, and not Yaz? Is something going on? Just so I know what I’m dealing with.”

There was no judgment there, just concern and honesty, and it dawned on Jules that Bill had no idea about what had happened. 

“Yaz didn't tell you?” 

Bill shook her head and Jules steeled herself to say the words that had made her feel so nauseous all week.

“She thinks I cheated on her.”

To her relief, Bill didn’t believe it for a second. 

“What? That's….no. I know you wouldn't do that.”

“I'm glad you believe me at least.” Jules could hear how bitter she sounded and she chalked that up to residual stress, but she couldn’t help it; the one person in the world who should have believed her, hadn’t.

“Yaz hasn't mentioned anything,” Bill frowned. “But she was off work for a few days and she missed practice, too. I thought she was ill.”

“That was probably because we argued.” Jules felt her stomach turn at the thought that Yaz had missed work because of what happened. But she knew that wasn’t entirely her fault, even if she had been blaming herself all week. “Missy turned up to a game and really sunk her claws in.”

The mention of Missy’s name made Bill scoff. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Again? Has she got nothing better to do?”

“Apparently not.” Jules pulled a face. “Just when I thought I’d got rid of her, she reappears. But this has got to be one of the worst weeks in a while.”

“It sounds like it,” Bill sympathised, and Jules’s eyes started to sting as she felt self-pity win. She seemed to vacillate between frustration and despair and now she was veering towards the latter, made all the more easy by the events of the afternoon.

“It’s all my fault, Bill. I’ve messed everything up. This shit keeps happening, and-”

Bill grasped her hands and Jules realised she’d started to wave them about in agitation. It was something she normally did when she got worked up. Normally it was a good sign that she was enjoying herself but today it was the opposite.

“Hey, you're not doing this to yourself, ok?”

Bill’s hands were warm and they gave hers a gentle squeeze.

“He shouldn't have done what he did. And whatever happened with Yaz, I know you can sort it out. If you don't, I'll need to mediate or something. I know all of Yaz’s secrets.”

Bill winked conspiratorially and Jules laughed a little at that, but her eyes were blurry with tears. 

“That’s more like it,” Bill enthused. “You're a good person Jules, and you deserve happiness. You just need to believe it. I know it might feel like you're alone, but you're not. You will never be alone. OK? Thank you for calling me.”

Jules ducked her head as the first traitorous tears landed on her lap. Bill had well and truly surprised her.

The only sound for a few long moments was that of the clock on the wall ticking time away and Jules realised that Yaz was on her way. She felt suddenly nervous. 

“How are things with Amy?” she asked, keen to distract herself. She swiped at her eyes with her sleeve. 

“You want to talk about that now?”

“Distract me.”

“Ok. You'll laugh at this, but Amy is apparently too tall for the bed so we have to get a new one.”

“That’s what happens when you date a goalie. Is she even that tall?”

“No, she just likes to make a fuss. And strikers aren’t really my type, I don’t think.” Bill grinned, showing that she meant no harm. It was reassuring to be able to talk so freely and even make light of what had happened between them. It suggested that Bill really had been able to move on and forgive her and it was nice to be able to relax in her company. Jules was glad she was there, and that she had called her.

“Touche.”

They slipped into an easy conversation but before long there was a knock at the door. Jules glanced up at the clock; only ten minutes had passed, but it had felt like ten seconds. Surely Yaz couldn’t have arrived so quickly?

Jules felt her heart in her throat. 

“You ready?” Bill asked, and Jules nodded, her mouth as dry as the Sahara. 

“Come in,” Bill called out, and then the door opened and Jules couldn’t tear her eyes away; there was Yaz, in her uniform, looking harried and flustered and the moment her eyes landed on Jules they softened perceptibly. 

“Jules?”

Just hearing Yaz say her name again made Jules unbearably sad. She’d missed Yaz so much that the relief she felt at seeing her again, even under such horrible circumstances, was immeasurable. But Yaz looked distraught, her expression not dissimilar from the one Bill wore when she’d first laid eyes on her. Part of that, Jules knew, was because of how she looked, but this was the first time they’d seen each other since Yaz had turned up at her flat unannounced. 

That fact made things awkward; neither of them seemed to know how to act because Yaz was hanging by the door and Jules was finding it more than a little difficult not to reach out and pull her into the hug she so desperately needed. 

“It’s alright, I’m off,” Bill murmured, getting to her feet as she sensed she might be getting in the way. She winked at Jules again and patted Yaz on the shoulder as she left, murmuring something that Jules didn’t quite catch. 

Once she was gone and the door was closed, it was like something released. The tension between them eased the moment they were alone and Yaz slowly crossed the room. 

“Hey, you. Is it alright if I sit here?” Yaz gestured to the bed, and Jules nodded. The very moment she could feel Yaz near her, she knew she was safe. 

“Are you alright? Bill told me what happened. And-”

Yaz had apparently just caught sight of the marks on her neck because her eyes widened. 

“Oh god, Jules. Where else did he hurt you?” Her eyes flashed with anger and concern.

“I'll have an egg on my head later. But I have a head like concrete. Remember?”

Jules tried to joke but it fell flat when she saw Yaz looking at her so worriedly. 

“Can I touch you?” Yaz finally asked. “I don’t want to make things worse but you look like you could do with a hug and I think I could, too.”

“I wish you would,” Jules admitted. “More than anything.”

Yaz opened her arms and welcomed Jules home. She was warm and soft and Jules felt herself melting at the contact that she’d been craving so badly. Before she realised what she was doing she was holding on even tighter, burying her nose in Yaz’s shoulder and clinging on for dear life. 

Yaz’s voice caught as she spoke and Jules could tell she was trying not to cry.

“Oh, baby. I'm so sorry. About everything. I’ve been thinking so much about what happened. I was such an idiot.”

Yaz pressed a kiss to her hair and lingered there. Neither of them were willing to move and they held each other for so long that when Yaz did finally speak again, Jules almost didn’t realise what she’d said. 

“Why didn’t you ask for me?”

“I didn’t think you’d want to deal with this. With me. Not now. And you weren't replying to any of my messages.”

Yaz inhaled sharply and pulled back to look Jules in the eye. 

“Jules, anything to do with you I want to know about. I’m sorry for not replying, but I needed to wrap my head around things and I was annoyed, if I’m honest. I was annoyed with myself most of all, for reacting the way I did. And after what happened, I needed some time to get my head straight. I just wish, more than anything, that I'd been here for you.”

Jules stiffened at the reminder. It hurt, because Yaz hadn’t been there when she’d needed her most. But her frustration was rapidly replaced by dread when she remembered just what she’d done. 

“Oh, no. Yaz, I tried calling you. When he…"

Jules trailed off as she remembered how scared she'd been.

"I think I left you a voicemail. When it happened. You might want to delete that.”

Yaz closed her eyes and exhaled shakily. When she opened them they were brimming with tears. She almost reached for her phone but thought better of it.

“I wish I'd answered. I wish I'd listened, Jules. But I’m here now. I'm here,” she emphasised, looking Jules right in the eye. Her trademark determination, which Jules had often encountered on the pitch, was evident. “I know you have every right not to believe me, but I'm staying.”

“God, I missed you,” Jules admitted. Just saying the words aloud lifted the cloud that had surrounded her all week and left her feeling drained. But whatever Yaz was about to say was cut off by the sound of a commotion outside. It was more than likely a code of some kind but the sudden noise spooked Jules and Yaz noticed immediately. 

“Let’s get you out of here. Can I take you home?”

They were the words Jules had longed to hear but she didn’t quite know what to do with them. The chaos outside had reminded her just where they were and why Yaz was there. 

“I'm meant to leave a statement.”

“We can do that tomorrow,” Yaz replied instantly. 

Jules didn’t fail to notice the "we". But her mind was churning and looking for flaws in the plan. The last thing she wanted was to be disappointed. 

“I'm not meant to wear scrubs outside.”

She knew she was fixating on the wrong thing but it gave her a sense of control, and Yaz didn’t question it. If anything, she seemed to understand completely.

“That's alright,” she murmured. “I think they can make an exception. Or I'll smuggle you out.”

Jules got to her feet but the logistics were still bothering her. 

“My car, it's here.” 

“We'll come back and get it.”

Again, the “we”. Jules clung to that word like a lifeline and waited as Yaz poked her head out the door to see what the noise was about. Jules could see her talking to someone - presumably Bill. 

“I'm taking her home to rest.” 

Yaz turned back and reached for her hand and Jules finally reached for it, indulging in the feel of Yaz’s palm pressed against her own. 

“We'll come into the station tomorrow. Sound ok?” Yaz squeezed her hand gently in silent question.

“Yeah. Sounds good.”

“Come on.”

Yaz guided them out of the room and the department. Jules could feel eyes on her again but they were a lot easier to ignore with Yaz there. The gentle pressure around her hand also made it easier to acknowledge the support offered by her colleagues. Yaz waited patiently while Jules spoke with them and even offered to carry her belongings from the locker room.

“Nearly there,” Yaz supplied as they neared the doors, which Jules could clearly see, but she appreciated the moral support. Yaz didn’t let go of her hand once, and it was only once they reached her car - haphazardly parked in a manner that made it look like it had been abandoned - that she reluctantly released it as she moved to the driver’s side. 

“Yaz, you know this is one of the consultant’s parking spaces?” Jules pointed out, but she was smiling at Yaz’s attempt at parking. 

“That’s too bad for them. I had to make sure my girlfriend was alright.”

Yaz unlocked the car and Jules paused, letting the word wash over her. They’d not once described each other like that but the moment Yaz said it, it felt right. Jules wished they’d used those words before. They might have saved them a lot of grief.

“You ok?” Yaz asked. “I mean, was that okay?”

It was such a simple question but it meant the world and especially at that very moment. Jules nodded without hesitation.

“More than okay.”

* * *

“I always wondered what you looked like in scrubs, you know. Blue is your colour.”

They were in Jules’s bathroom and Yaz was helping her get changed. But Jules knew that those scrubs would end up in a bag that they’d take with them to the police station in the morning. She tensed at the reminder. 

“I'll leave you to it, yeah? I'll be right outside if you need anything.”

So Jules showered alone. It was the first moment she’d truly had to herself since she’d been assaulted and she made the most of the opportunity to take stock of how she felt. The mixture of emotions she’d felt earlier was still very much present but muted by the fact that Yaz was outside. It felt reassuring to know she was there, and that at least they would have a chance to talk about what had happened between them. But it was a lot to deal with in one afternoon and Jules took her time, standing under the hot water until it started to turn cool. She could at least try and attempt to wash away the remnants of the day.

Despite showering for the best part of half an hour, she still didn’t feel warm or clean and when she stepped into the bedroom, wrapped in a towel, Yaz was there, waiting for her with her favourite slouchy clothes. 

Yaz frowned when she noticed how pink her skin was.

“Were you cold? Let me get you another layer.”

Jules let her fuss; her head had started to thump again and the prospect of getting dressed seemed like a monumental effort. But Yaz helped her without question or comment, until she saw once more the bruising around her neck at close range. 

“I could kill him,” she muttered, before guiding a hoodie over her head.

“If it helps, I kicked him in the balls.”

Yaz laughed a bit at that, and Jules was relieved to see her anger fade. 

“Do you need any painkillers? Please don't put yourself through pain if you don't need to.”

Jules shook her head. She was in pain, but not the kind that a tablet would get rid of. 

“You can admit if you're in pain, Jules. It doesn't make you any less strong.”

And just like that, Yaz read her like a book. 

“It’s not just this, though, Yaz. I've missed you so much and now that you’re here, it’s just...it’s all become real. I really thought I’d lost you.”

Jules finally lost the thread she’d been hanging onto all afternoon but Yaz scooped her into a hug before she could try and hide her face. 

It felt good to let herself cry, and it was something Jules had denied herself all week. She wasn’t sure why; it felt like something of an indulgence she had to deny herself, a form of cruel and unusual punishment heaped on top of what she deemed to be self-inflicted misery. But now that she’d hit rock bottom and there was light at the end of the tunnel - Yaz was here, murmuring comfort in her ear and stroking her back - Jules let herself fall apart. She knew someone else would be there to pick up the pieces. She felt better for it already: she felt more like herself, more human, to acknowledge just how much pain she had been in. And she felt more like herself with Yaz there.

“I’m so sorry, Yaz. I really screwed things up.”

“No, you didn’t. It’s my fault. I didn't listen to you when I should have done. I made a massive mistake. Biggest mistake of my life, really."

Jules could sense they were going to go around in circles but both of them clearly needed to get it out. She pulled away and sure enough, Yaz was in tears, too.

“I should have told you, Yaz, I know I should. I’m just not used to talking about myself like that. And I kept thinking that I’d tell you something and you’d change your mind. I’d say something you didn’t want to hear, and you’d realise you wouldn’t like me for who I am.”

Yaz cupped her cheek instinctively, forgetting herself for a moment. Just as she was about to pull away, Jules laid her own hand on top, keeping her there. 

“Jules, I don’t think that’s possible,” Yaz emphasised. “Believe it or not, you can't get rid of me that easily. And even though you don't tell me much, I think I do know enough. All week I’ve been thinking about it. I know that you're a good person. I know that you have secrets, just like anyone, and I know that I was unfair to you, and-”

Jules could sense that she was starting to get more and more upset. 

“Yaz, shhh. Shh,” she soothed, even as her eyes stung with tears. She could see shadows under Yaz's eyes and realised that she had been struggling, too. “It's alright.”

“But it isn't.” Yaz shook her head. “I panicked. I listened to someone who told me things that made me second guess you and I let her get to me. And I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry, Jules.”

Yaz’s voice broke as she apologised again and again and Jules felt her heart break with it. They’d hurt each other badly but now they’d acknowledged it, she hoped more than anything that they could put it behind them. They couldn’t keep beating themselves up about it if they wanted to move things forwards. Yaz seemed to read her mind.

“We should talk about it, but maybe not right now. You’ve had a hell of a day. I think you should probably get some rest, if you can.”

Jules eyed the bed longingly. She really was more than a little tired and her body was screaming for a rest. 

“I’ll be right here, and you can just call me if you need anything.”

Yaz traced her cheek with her thumb and Jules had to stop herself leaning into the touch. She craved more of it. But Yaz was right. Now was not the time and hopefully they’d have more time to carry on their discussion in the morning. For the first time in days, Jules felt her future brighten.

“I’m too distracted to sleep, anyway,” Yaz admitted ruefully. “But I’ll come through soon, ok?” She smiled softly and stood, waiting for Jules to settle before she walked over to the other side of the bed and flicked on the lamp there. Jules relaxed as a gentle yellow light chased away the shadows. She didn’t even have to ask and Yaz knew what she’d needed.

The thought that Yaz would be returning to her bed in the imminent future gave Jules hope. But as Yaz reached the door and started to pull it closed, Jules realised she didn’t want to be shut away. She wanted to know that Yaz was still there.

“Can you leave the door open?”

Yaz didn’t question her, and the sound of her pottering about down the hall put Jules at ease as she tried to relax enough to sleep. The flat had seemed so empty without Yaz in it, but now it felt like home. And instead of dreaming about a man with bulging, manic eyes, as she’d feared, Jules instead dreamed of the woman who had stolen her heart.


	39. Coast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an epic note but bear with me! 
> 
> First off, I really need to take a second to say thank you so much to everyone who has taken the time to leave a comment! They really keep me going. 🙂 Especially those amazing people who have always given such immense support on every single damn chapter, you know who you are ❤️
> 
> Some eagle-eyed readers may have noticed the total chapter count creeping up with recent updates. The more I thought about it the more I realised I was probably rushing the ending and the more anxious I got that I'd do just that, so I've removed that final chapter count for the time being. 
> 
> I've also put all my fics on a separate WordPress site (maglexfic dot wordpress dot com). Going forward I'll be posting any new fics on there rather than ao3 but I'll update this particular fic on both because it’s so far along. It should be possible to subscribe to updates on there, I've added a subscribe link in the footer.
> 
> Finally, this chapter is brought to you by In Your Likeness by Woodkid (I've been binging the new album since it came out but this track made me think of Jules ❤️)

Jules abruptly pushed open the double doors, gasping for fresh air. She could hear Yaz behind her, running to catch up, but she didn’t slow her pace. Her skin felt like it was crawling and the building was too warm, the walls closing in on her and making her feel trapped. 

The morning had started off well, all things considered. Yaz had been pressed up against her back when she’d woken and neither of them had wanted to leave the bed, but both of them also knew precisely what needed to be done before they could get on with the rest of the day. Jules had seen the plastic bag containing her scrubs by the bedroom door and the moment she laid eyes on them, she was on a mission to get the whole thing over and done with.

She hadn’t forgotten what had happened but retreating into the safety of Yaz’s arms had made the reality of it all seem so abrupt that Jules felt herself on edge as she spoke to the police officer and gave her statement. Yaz held her hand under the table but Jules couldn’t stop her leg from bouncing or, apparently, stop chewing on her lip.

“Hey, you okay?” Yaz asked as she caught up. “Your lip’s bleeding.”

Jules tentatively tongued her lip and tasted blood. She hadn’t even noticed she was doing it. 

“I- yeah. I’m okay.”

Yaz gave her a sympathetic smile but she looked like she was struggling, too. Discussing what had happened the previous afternoon had been an unpleasant experience but Jules hadn’t failed to notice Yaz’s sharp intake of breath and the pressure around her hand when she’d recalled how she’d been assaulted. 

“You did so well in there. Honest.”

“That’s it, right? I don’t have to do anything else?”

“No. That’s it.”

Jules exhaled heavily and watched as her breath clouded the air. It was still early and still cold, but the air she was breathing wasn’t quite right. It tasted wrong. Tainted, rough, and choppy in her lungs. The frantic energy that had plagued her all morning was surging to the fore and Jules could only do her best to ride the wave.

A couple of officers walked past them and Yaz acknowledged them briefly, but she wasn’t technically on duty - given her involvement in the case, she’d switched her shifts to accompany Jules in a personal capacity. The thought made Jules’s heart swell. All she wanted was time alone with Yaz, time away from Sheffield. She knew by now that what had happened at the hospital would have become common knowledge to her friends - the unread messages on her phone indicated that was the case - but she wasn’t ready to deal with any of them. Just Yaz. 

The claustrophobia that started creeping in around the edges was what finally made her reach for Yaz’s hand. 

“Can we get out of here?” she asked, desperate to escape. 

“Of course,” Yaz murmured, giving her hand a supportive squeeze. “Where did you want to go?”

“The sea,” Jules replied instantly. She wanted to get away from the constructs of the city, away from people, to be faced with the raw beauty and grace of nature. Nature couldn’t be tamed, after all, and Jules wanted to feel some of that unassailable power first-hand. Drawing on it was the next best thing to possessing it herself, and right now she felt the opposite: she felt fragile. 

Yaz was the only person she could stand to feel that fragile around. 

“The sea?” Yaz frowned at the unexpected request. 

“I need some air.”

Yaz made a sympathetic sound, clearly sensing the extent of her distress.

“Alright. The sea it is.”

* * *

It took the best part of an hour and a half but with each passing mile under the tyres, Jules felt herself relax. She hadn’t been to the coast in months, probably years, now that she thought about it, and she knew she’d made the right call when she opened the passenger door and nearly got blown off her feet by a strong gust of April wind. 

Jules tucked the ends of her rainbow scarf into her coat. It was warm and soft and hid the worst of the bruising around her neck but even though it was out of sight, it certainly wasn’t out of her mind. 

Yaz pointed them in the direction of a coffee shop and they took their drinks to a bench in a quiet spot looking out to sea, talking about whatever popped to mind as they strolled. But the moment they sat down, Jules knew they’d need to broach the subject that was hanging over them like a cloud. 

“I love that scarf on you,” Yaz said, reaching out to touch the edge of it. But as she did, she looked melancholy; Jules realised that Yaz had been wearing it the day that Missy threw a spanner in the works, and had shown up to return it and found River in the process. 

“Talk to me, Yaz.” Jules may well have been having a terrible day but the sadness permeating Yaz’s expression suggested she was, too.

“What about?”

“Tell me what you're thinking. I really want to know.”

“Are you sure?” Yaz frowned. “We don’t have to do this now. We can do this another time, another day.”

But Jules wanted to speak to Yaz more than anything. With each breath of fresh air she felt her mental energy being restored, and she knew that until they discussed what was on their minds, there would be a tension between them. That wasn’t something she normally did; normally, she’d shelve her inner-most thoughts or bury them or try and distract herself but that was what had led them into trouble to begin with. As painful and hard as it was, Jules needed to rip the plaster off.

“Yeah, I want to talk about it. I think we need to.” 

Yaz nodded, and took a sip of her coffee, clearly gathering her thoughts. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared, Jules.”

That took her by surprise; she hadn’t been expecting Yaz to be so blunt, or for fear to be her prevailing emotion. Yasmin Khan was one of the most fearless people she’d ever met.

“It all felt too good to be true, you know? Everything with you felt so good. It was like something from a film, and it was everything I could have dreamed of.”

Yaz wiped at her eyes, and Jules knew her tears weren’t caused by the bitter wind. It was bracingly cold but neither of them were willing to move. The weather was mere witness, a background character to their conversation. Nothing was more important in that moment than each other, regardless of their discomfort.

And Jules was gobsmacked. When Yaz put it that way, she realised she’d felt exactly the same. Things between them had felt like nothing else she’d ever experienced. 

“I was almost waiting for something to go wrong. And Missy...Missy was so convincing. She found my weaknesses and she hit them, dead on.”

“She's good at that,” Jules murmured. The mention of Missy brought her back to Earth with a bump. 

“Martha actually told me more about what happened at the hospital. And I read about what happened in the papers, I looked it up.” Yaz wouldn’t meet her eye and Jules realised she was embarrassed. 

“My sister had a right go at me too, said I shouldn't go digging, but I needed to know. To find out for myself.” Yaz finally looked at her and Jules could see a flash of stubbornness. “And when I saw that Missy was struck off, like you said she was, I knew I'd made a mistake.” The corners of her mouth turned downwards. 

“I couldn't believe I’d been so stupid. You were right and I should have listened. It’s different when you see it in black and white,” Yaz sighed. “It feels so strange. Those words, from someone with a vested interest? They can do so much damage without context. And you were the only one who could give me that context, and instead of asking you I just...shut you out.” 

Yaz abandoned her coffee and turned to reach for her hands. They were warmer than her own and Jules let Yaz imbue her with heat. It bound them together, a tangible connection that she didn’t want to lose hold of. It felt like the two of them together could be immune to whatever the world would throw at them, whether that be a harsh wind or something more calculating and malicious. Alone, however, Jules had realised she was a lot worse off. She’d cut herself off when Missy had sent her home with an injury, she’d not looked after herself, and it was only with Yaz in her life that she’d realised just how much she had to fight for. 

“I felt terrible, Jules. I still feel terrible.”

There was a pause, then, and Jules realised Yaz was waiting for her response; she was searching her face for a clue. But even though she’d been the one to suggest they talk, Jules realised she didn’t quite have an answer for Yaz. She was still trying to work through what she had told her. And she felt terrible, too, but that was also partly because of how Yaz had acted. Those walls she’d started to put back up were still there for a reason. Jules trod carefully.

“I was going to tell you,” she started. She’d wanted to say that for days and it felt good to finally say it aloud. “I just needed to find the right time. I didn’t want to scare you off, you know? We were just getting to know each other, and that was a lot to take in. Things already felt so intense - and I mean that in a good way, you know - but I didn’t want to make it too much.” 

“I understand,” Yaz ducked her head. “It didn't take me long to figure out I'd got it so wrong. That's why I came over that night. I jumped to conclusions that I shouldn't have, and I did it again when I showed up at your front door.”

Jules briefly closed her eyes as she pictured Yaz’s face that night. Normally, she'd try to make Yaz feel better but what had happened that night had hurt. She realised she needed an apology but equally she understood how things might have looked in the heat of the moment. The timing had been terrible.

“Yeah,” she agreed, her voice gravelly. It was upsetting to revisit that moment but they had got to the crux of the problem. They needed to talk about it and Jules steeled herself. Yaz was still holding onto her hands, tethering her to herself and to the conversation. Jules could not run away from this, not if they were to stand a chance of fixing things. And that meant she had to be honest, too.

“I’m absolutely mortified by how I reacted. I’m sorry for what I said, Jules. I turned up and River was here…and you were laughing, like our argument hadn't even happened. It was like my worst nightmare come true.” 

Jules knew it wasn’t just that that had hurt. Yaz had thought she was cheating. The lack of trust had been a slap in the face.

“I'm not a cheater, Yaz.” 

To her credit, Yaz didn’t look away; she winced but she held on tight. 

“River and I...we had a thing, yeah. But it stopped that first night I took you home.”

It took Yaz a few seconds to recall the night in question. 

“That social?”

“That social.”

That social had been several months ago. To all intents and purposes they hadn’t even been friends at the time; if anything they’d parted ways the following day on awkward terms. 

“Even though I made you sleep on the sofa and put my foot in it?” Yaz asked, and something akin to a smile emerged for the first time since they’d started talking. 

“Even then.” Jules felt herself starting to smile despite herself. When she looked back on how they’d first got to know each other, she’d laugh at how clueless they’d both been. “I knew.”

Yaz worried at her lip with her teeth, as if she was pondering whether to say something. But Jules knew she needed to get her side across and she kept going.

“Nothing happened that night, Yaz. I just needed someone to talk to. And River knows about me and Missy, she was there when it happened. She understood what that was all about.”

But she felt guilty almost immediately when she saw how distraught Yaz looked. She wished she hadn’t worded herself so plainly; Yaz’s faint smile evaporated and Jules was overcome by an urge to put it back in place. Her own upset faded away when she saw just how upset Yaz was. 

“It should have been me who was there for you. I worried about you being with someone else when I was the person who should have been there,” Yaz sniffed. “I’m such an idiot.”

Jules couldn’t bear to see how much Yaz was beating herself up. There was a fine line between being upfront about her own feelings and punishing Yaz for them. Besides, Yaz would have had no idea what she was up against. How could she, if Jules had never told her? All she'd done was tell her that Missy was dangerous, bad news, to stay away from her. Not  _ why _ .

“Hey, hey,” Jules muttered, trying to catch her eye. “You're here now, Yaz. That's all that matters.”

“Is it?” Yaz’s eyes were brimming with fresh tears. 

“You're only human. I understand how it looked.” 

“But you're only human too, Jules. And you've been through so much. You've seen and lost so much.” The tears spilled over then and Jules let go of Yaz’s hand to brush them away. 

_ And thought I'd lost someone I loved. _

The realisation hit like a ton of bricks. She loved Yaz and she thought she'd lost her. No wonder she’d felt so awful. 

“Come here,” she murmured, her heart racing as the concept ran through her like a freight train. She pulled Yaz into a hug, trying to shield her from the wind and the pain even as she struggled to process what she’d just realised. 

Jules loved Yaz. 

Of course she did. It was both surprising and completely unsurprising, all at once. She’d somehow known Yaz was different from the very first moment she’d seen her; and even though she’d been slow to cotton on to the fact, it had felt so obvious in retrospect that Jules considered that, at some level, she must have always felt something towards her, even if she hadn’t actually acknowledged it. 

She could feel Yaz sobbing quietly into her coat and she clung on tight. She had no idea how long they held onto each other but eventually Yaz pulled away, her cheeks flushed and damp. She scrubbed at them with a slight laugh, apparently embarrassed. 

“You’ve seen and lost so much, Jules, and it keeps happening to you. I should be honest.”

Jules held her breath, wondering what Yaz was about to tell her. 

“When I googled your name, I found out about the other thing. What happened with the explosion.”

“Ah.” Jules sighed.

“You died?”

“Technically. You know I said I was always getting into scrapes as a kid? Pretty sure I ran out of my nine lives, by now. Probably up to thirteen.”

“That’s my lucky number,” Yaz smiled, but it faltered. “I know you told me what happened but it's somehow worse seeing it like that, reported like news. You've been through so much. It must hurt like hell, carrying all of that with you. No wonder your poor shoulders give you pain all the time.”

Jules had never experienced someone who understood her so plainly. And in a strange way, Yaz had saved them both some difficult conversations by doing her research. To her surprise, instead of being offended or hurt that Yaz had gone digging behind her back, Jules felt relief. Yaz didn’t know everything - Google couldn’t tell her that - but she knew most of the facts. Those, in some respect, were harder to deal with, especially when they’d been reported by someone external to the situation. And they’d tallied with what she’d already told Yaz. She just needed to fill in some of the gaps but she knew that if Yaz had armed herself with the rest of the facts, she might at least understand a little better.

“I'm sorry, Jules. I should have trusted you. I know you had your reasons not to tell me everything. I get that now, and I have to respect that.”

Yaz fisted her hands in her coat lapels, holding on tight, like she didn’t want to let go. Jules shifted closer, until their legs were pressed together.

“Do you trust me now?” she asked. She needed to know that Yaz trusted her or their conversation would have been for nothing.

“Yes. Of course. Yes. I'm so sorry I made you doubt that. It all happened so easily, the way we fell into each other. I felt guilty about keeping our relationship a secret from my parents. You were right. I was hiding things, too.”

Yaz looked away. “They don't know I'm...I've not come out to them. Yet.”

“There's no pressure to tell them, Yaz. I'm sorry I said that.” Jules truly meant it. She didn’t want to push Yaz into anything. But Yaz shook her head.

“They should know, though. We're close, and you…” Yaz hesitated, clearly torn about what to say. “Well, you mean a lot to me. I want them to know about you.” 

Jules was relieved. While she didn’t want to pressure Yaz into anything, she’d had bad experiences of keeping a relationship secret. It was yet another reason why she’d hated her time in the army.

“My sister knows about us, though. It’s funny you mentioned that social because she knew after that night. She picked me up and she talked some sense into me that very morning, when I was hungover. And she also reminded me that there are things you don’t know about me, either. Like when I ran away from home, and-”

Jules could sense that she was getting worked up again. 

“Yaz, stop. You don't have to tell me. At least, you can tell me if or when you want to, you know? There’s no pressure.”

“I want to. You deserve to know. It’s partly why I’m so secretive about certain things.”

Haltingly, Yaz told Jules about her attempt to run away from home when she was sixteen because of school bullies. She told Jules that her sister had called the police because she was worried that Yaz was going to do something stupid. Jules felt her heart ache for Yaz and the fact that she’d been so desperate to run away was something she understood only too well. 

She listened as Yaz explained her subsequent relationship with her parents; how it was a big thing for them to encourage her to move out. And that Yaz didn’t want to give them even more to worry about by disclosing her sexuality. 

“They’re so protective and because of that, I’ve never really been hurt. Being with you feels so...grown up, you know? I know there’s only a handful of years between us but I feel like I’m being allowed to do my own thing for once. And it’s exciting,” Yaz grinned, even though her eyes were still teary. “But it means that I handled that situation so badly because I had nothing to compare it to. I thought, maybe…”

“Maybe…?” Jules asked, encouraging her. She was hanging on every word.

“Maybe it was just me who felt like that.”

Jules shook her head vehemently. Perhaps she hadn’t done enough to show Yaz just how much she meant to her. They’d relied on the physical aspect of things but she needed to use her words more. She was normally good with them but when it came to emotions, Jules knew she could struggle to communicate, with words, just how she felt. 

“Oh. No. Not at all, Yaz. I've never felt quite the same way about anybody.”

She wasn’t about to admit to Yaz precisely she felt just yet, though. She needed time to adjust to the realisation that she was in love, to let herself have that moment and wrap herself in it before she shared that knowledge. Now was not the right time. But Jules was still surprised by her own honesty, given everything that had happened. When she’d been attacked she’d only thought of Yaz, and that had spoken volumes. That fact had stuck in her mind ever since. 

“You mean a lot to me too, Yaz.”  _ More than anything. _

Yaz softened.

“I’ve never been in a situation like this before and I freaked out. I don’t know what i’m doing. I still don't.”

“Neither do I,” Jules shrugged with a grin.

“That makes us even, hey?”

“I guess it does.” 

Yaz cupped her chin in her hand and Jules felt herself relax into the touch. She’d sorely missed it.

“Why don't we try again? I'm not saying we forget what happened, but we learn from it. We had a good thing going. And the sex…”

“The sex was so good,” Jules agreed. Yaz started to laugh, a proper laugh, one that lit Jules up from the inside and prompted her to join in. It felt good to laugh, especially after the conversation they’d just had. 

“If you want to know something, Yaz, just ask me and I’ll try to answer as best I can.”

Yaz tilted her head. “Right now I’ve only got one question.”

Her tone had changed; Jules could sense something shift. It felt like they were back on safer ground, like they’d returned to something of their old dynamic, and she was cheered by the thought. She’d missed it very much.

“Shoot.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“I can tell you now that’s something you’ll never need to ask me,” Jules replied, delighted. 

Yaz leaned in and they kissed for the first time in days and Jules felt like she was soaring. She could almost feel the pieces start to come back together, like a smashed vase in reverse, repaired through grit and determination and, from her perspective, love. The cracks might still be there but Jules pictured them like the Japanese pottery she’d seen in a museum: once shattered but mended with gold and stronger for it. The fractures, now healed, would be part of their shared history, not just hers, or Yaz’s. 

She stopped thinking when she heard Yaz moan softly into it, and the hands on her coat tightened as they pulled her closer. 

* * *

Despite the cold, Jules suggested a walk on the beach and Yaz had no sympathy when she managed to soak her Converse in a sudden wave. The sun emerged and did nothing to dry her and her hair kept getting in her face, courtesy of the stubborn wind, but Jules refused to let go of Yaz’s hand. She didn’t care if it obscured her vision. She embraced everything that nature wanted to throw at her. She felt invincible, and she realised that it wasn’t the getting away, or the views, or the environment that made her feel that way. It was Yaz. 

On their way back to the car, Jules bought them both ice cream and they almost froze to death eating it but afterwards, Yaz kissed her and it tasted even sweeter than the chocolate she’d just eaten. Her heart was pounding when Yaz pulled away.

“This is good, isn't it? That we feel like this?” 

Jules was beaming. 

“Yeah. Really good.”

So much so that when Yaz dropped her home that evening, their goodbye kiss turned into such a prolonged one that the car steamed up. Jules was dazed when they finally parted, tracing Yaz’s kiss-swollen bottom lip with her thumb. Her own lips tingled and Yaz looked similarly stunned. The atmosphere had shifted again and this time it was loaded in a different way to earlier that day. A different but familiar way that Jules positively ached to explore.

“Did you wanna come up?” she asked, hoping Yaz would understand.

Yaz turned off the engine without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kintsugi pottery is beautiful ❤️  
> As always, you can find me on twitter @_mag_lex  
> All my fics can now be found at maglexfic dot wordpress dot com.


	40. Make up (E)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this week has been ridiculous. Here's hoping that we're finally seeing some light at the end of the tunnel! To everyone in the UK who's currently in second lockdown - I hope you're keeping safe and well, and I hope this might serve as some kind of distraction! Ngl though this is pure smut so you may wish to skip it if that's not your cup of tea and you won't miss much, plot-wise. Next chapter will have a bit more plot to it, I promise :)

When Jules woke up the next morning, she wasn’t certain if she was still dreaming. For a start, there was someone else in bed with her and for a brief moment, she actually forgot where she was and how she’d gotten there. 

Her dreams had been empty and restful, and Jules suspected that the sea air had helped clear her mind; she woke up most days with a start, chased from sleep by vivid dreams that visited her on such a regular basis that to not have them was a rare joy. But to not have them was also disorientating and Jules blinked as she took in her surroundings. She was home, at least, even if she’d slept so deeply that she’d momentarily forgotten making it there.

As for the other person in the bed, the press of bare skin against her front and the smell of a familiar shampoo were both concrete signs that she was very much awake, rather than dreaming, and in bed with Yaz. She laid still, letting herself wake up slowly and feeling the steady rise and fall of Yaz’s breaths beneath her palm.

When she was certain Yaz was still fast asleep, Jules turned as carefully as she could to check the time. The clock on her bedside table informed her it was still early and she knew she should probably go back to sleep, but then she caught sight of the clothes littering the floor and her mind instantly cast itself back to the previous night. 

She smirked as she saw the way her dungarees had fallen to the carpet, recalling the difficulties Yaz had in removing them. 

* * *

They’d barely made it inside the flat before Yaz had been tugging at the offending clothing, frustrated when she couldn’t unhook the clips.

“These are torture,” Yaz huffed. “You look cute in them but-”

“I do not look cute,” Jules protested half-heartedly. Most of the blood had diverted from her brain by that point and her heart wasn’t truly in it. 

“Babe, they're _dungarees_.”

Jules looked down, flustered by the term of endearment. Nobody else got away with it but she had a feeling that she’d let Yaz get away with anything. It didn’t hurt that she liked the way that word had sounded coming from her lips.

“Okay, you may have a point,” she conceded. She’d worn dungarees because they were comfortable and comforting but after her soaking in the sea she’d had to roll the legs up a little, which made her look about 10 years younger.

“Give me a hand?” Yaz asked, and Jules found herself fumbling with the catches, too. 

“Why did I think these were a good idea,” she huffed. The moment they’d managed to unclasp them, though, their difficulties were forgotten; Yaz’s cool hands were immediately tugging on her t-shirt, and they made Jules yelp in surprise. It hadn’t been that long since they’d touched one another like that but she’d longed for it so much - especially now, after all of the kissing in the car - that Jules felt her self-control slipping. 

“You okay?” Yaz frowned at the unusual sound. Jules was normally far more on top of things. 

“Yeah. Just, your hands...they’re cold.”

“Good thing they’ll be warm in a minute,” Yaz muttered, but she was far more conscientious when she touched Jules next, to the point where her light touches only served to wind her up even more. Cold hands or not, Jules needed to feel them on her. So, when Yaz finally got rid of her bra, Jules reached for them and placed them directly on her chest. Her nipples hardened instantly against Yaz’s palms. 

“There,” Jules sighed. “Warm them on me.”

“I’ve missed this,” Yaz murmured, staring at her hands in awe. The look would have been comical under normal circumstances but Jules was far too turned on to care about anything except for the feel of Yaz touching her so reverently. 

She also couldn’t help but draw parallels with their first time together in Berlin. The tension then had been ratcheted so high that it had felt almost chaotic. She recalled the struggles she’d had getting into the hotel room, the way she’d hidden her nerves behind her trademark cockiness. But this was different. It was just as nerve-wracking, in many ways, not least because this time around Yaz knew much more about who she was. She couldn’t hide. They had a history, now, and that added weight to everything they did going forwards. 

Jules swallowed hard, nerves making her heart thud against her ribs. 

“You want to lie down?” Yaz suggested, sensing that the mood had shifted. 

Jules nodded and tried to ignore the way Yaz watched her as she settled herself on the bed. There was a pause as Yaz took her in, then she quickly stripped off the rest of her own clothes and joined Jules by sharing a pillow. She ran her hand along Jules’s arm like she was soothing a skittish animal. 

“Is this alright?”

Jules nodded again, uncharacteristically lost for words. Then again, she’d learned that Yaz could have that effect on her. She was one of the only people who could.

“I want to show you how much I’ve missed you,” Yaz said. There was a sense of confidence and urgency there that was new.

“Please,” Jules sighed, surprising both of them with how easily she let Yaz lead. In a way, she needed Yaz to show her how she felt. She needed to be reassured. 

And reassure her, Yaz did. She smiled and leaned in for one last kiss before she started to move downwards, and Jules had to make a valiant effort to not buck them both off the bed. If that was how she was going to respond to Yaz kissing her arm, she wondered what was going to happen when Yaz kissed her elsewhere. She fisted her hands in the sheets as Yaz worked her way around her neck, leaving lingering kisses under her jaw and ear, places she knew would have an effect. 

“You can hold onto me,” Yaz suggested when she saw the white-knuckle grip Jules had on the sheets. 

“I don’t want to cut off circulation,” Jules joked, and Yaz giggled, a sound that did nothing to ease her escalating heart rate. 

“I can take it.”

* * *

Jules sighed happily as she turned back to look at Yaz. There was no way she’d be able to get back to sleep after that, especially when she looked back at Yaz and spied the hickey on her neck. She vividly remembered leaving it there. 

* * *

By that point, Jules had broken out into a sweat. The chill that had seeped into her bones had well and truly burned away, cultivated by Yaz’s orchestrated touches that had left her skin feeling like it was on fire. 

“You need to touch me, Yaz. Please touch me.”

“I am, babe,” Yaz smirked, glancing up from where she was dotting kisses across her stomach. 

“Yaz.” The sound came out as an embarrassing mix of a groan and a whimper but Jules didn’t care. On the plus side, it made Yaz finally move between her legs, prevaricating only briefly to kiss the skin of her inner thighs before she put her mouth to better use and introduced her tongue to the equation. 

Jules didn’t have any control over her hips when those lips wrapped around her clit, or when that wicked tongue eventually moved down and dipped inside, fucking her. Even when Yaz tried to pin her down with an arm, the restraint only made her more desperate to chase her own pleasure, which Yaz was, thankfully, equally enthusiastic to provide. 

“I’m not going to last,” she admitted with a moan, wondering how Yaz had managed to work her up so quickly. She’d barely even started and Jules was already so close. 

Yaz didn’t answer but she hummed happily, and the sight of her jaw moving was enough to send Jules spiralling. There was the pressure of a thumb against her clit, pressing firmly but slowly as it matched the pace of Yaz’s tongue, which was thrusting inside her at a leisurely pace. 

There was something about the way Yaz was fucking her that seemed more intimate than usual, like she was pressed as far inside her as she could be with her mouth. But when Yaz replaced her tongue with her fingers, Jules lost it completely as deft fingers pressed right against the spot inside that her tongue couldn’t reach. 

She practically sobbed when she came, swept away by the torrent. Only distantly did she realise her thighs were clamped around Yaz’s head and only once the waves had passed could she try to relax them. 

“Fuck, that was hot,” Yaz murmured as she wiped her chin with the back of her hand. Jules groaned at the visual and at the feel of the aftershocks racing along her limbs. 

“You alright?”

Jules nodded, still trying to recover her senses. She felt boneless and slightly floored by the way Yaz had taken her apart so easily.

Yaz propped herself up next to Jules and once she’d caught her breath, she kissed her so soundly that she deprived her of oxygen once again. Jules could taste herself on Yaz’s lips and that was enough to give her a second wind. She flipped Yaz onto her back, taking her by surprise and thoroughly enjoying the shriek she elicited. 

“Very alright,” Jules murmured, and Yaz shivered at how low her voice sounded. She reached for Jules’s hand and guided it straight between her legs and any protest died on Jules’s lips when she felt how wet she was. 

“I need you inside.”

Once again, Jules didn’t question this new-found confidence that Yaz seemed to have adopted; if anything, it was symbolic of just how desperately Yaz needed her and it was incredibly arousing. At that moment she wouldn’t deny Yaz anything. Just as she’d needed to be reassured how Yaz felt, she needed to show Yaz just how much she meant to her.

“Your wish is my command,” Jules smirked, and she sank inside so easily that she didn’t even have to take her eye off Yaz; instead, she could watch every expression as it cast itself across Yaz’s face. Her favourite thing was to watch the way Yaz’s eyebrows drew together and the way her mouth dropped open, but most of all she loved to hear the noises Yaz made. 

She knew something that would make Yaz emit even better sounds and she dipped her head so that her lips could brush against her neck, letting them linger over the sensitive skin there as her hand moved between her legs. 

“Jules,” Yaz moaned, and Jules wished she could record that sound for posterity. She longed for Yaz to say her name like that again and again, to never stop hearing her say it.

Yaz’s hands came up to rest on her back. She’d once told Jules that she liked to feel the way her arm moved when she took her like this and she was doing that now, her hand spanning Jules’s shoulder blade as she picked up the pace, Jules’s arm moving steadily between them.

“Does that feel good?” Jules asked, knowing the answer but wanting to hear Yaz anyway. The sound of her name falling from Yaz’s lips was addictive and she longed to hear her say it again. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” Yaz chanted, and her head fell back as Jules picked up the pace. “Jules, yes,” she groaned and Jules nearly faltered at the sound. “I’m close.” 

Jules finally tore herself away from her neck to see the state of disarray Yaz was in. Her hair had come loose and was dishevelled and she could barely keep her eyes open but Yaz had never looked so beautiful. 

“I can tell,” Jules said instead. “You make these sounds.”

As if to prove her point, Jules curled her fingers in a way that she knew would make Yaz lose whatever was left of her inhibitions. She had to bite back a grin as it worked and Yaz emitted a guttural moan. 

“See?” Jules breathed. She was breathing just as hard as Yaz was but there was no way she could stop. It would have been cruel. Just as she knew how to take Yaz apart, that knowledge was power; Jules got a rush from possessing it and right now she needed to demonstrate to Yaz just how well she knew her. She needed to wield that power wisely.

“Stop showing off and let me come.”

“Yes, boss.”

That was all the invitation Jules needed to return to the tender skin of Yaz’s neck and lavish it with even more attention. It was already turning a darker colour where she’d licked and sucked at her pulse and Jules knew she was going to leave an even darker mark, but the feel of Yaz’s blunt fingernails digging into her shoulder drove her onwards. 

She was hungry for the taste of Yaz’s skin and the sound of her voice in ways that only she could know. She wanted to see that side of Yaz that nobody else got to see. The one that only she could see. It was hers, in a way, or at least it was shared between them; Yaz was opening herself up for the taking and Jules tried to memorise all of it. Not just the feel of Yaz around her fingers but the scent and the warmth of her skin and the sounds she made with each thrust. 

“Fuck, Jules, just like that.”

Yaz’s thighs started to clamp around her hand like a vice, a sure sign that she was nearly there, and Jules had to put more momentum into it, her arm burning with the strain. But the moment she brought her teeth into play and nipped at the soft skin of Yaz’s neck, Yaz froze; her fingers dug into Jules’s shoulder almost painfully and she relished it. She wanted Yaz to mark her just like she’d painted her neck with the most vivid bruise. 

Whatever Yaz said next was unintelligible but Jules got the gist; she eased Yaz through it and only once she was sure she was ready did she pull out. 

“Jules,” Yaz breathed. “Fuck.”

“That’s pretty much what just happened,” Jules grinned, collapsing back to the sheets with a contented sigh. Her heart was still racing and she was more than a little warm, but it didn’t take long for the sweat on her skin to cool in the chill air of the room and she shivered, reaching for the duvet. 

Yaz was still borderline senseless as Jules wrapped herself around her, muttering nonsense as she left kisses on her cheek, her nose, her chin, and then her lips. 

“Hey, Yaz?”

“Hmm?” 

Yaz finally turned to look at her, grinning dopily. 

“You might have to borrow a scarf tomorrow.”

* * *

But Yaz hadn’t heard her, or if she did, she didn’t care; she was fast asleep within seconds and it hadn’t taken long for Jules to join her. 

Despite the solid sleep, Jules bit back a yawn when she realised that her muscles were still pleasantly tired. The sea air had clearly wiped them out and, by the looks of things, Yaz would be asleep for a while longer. Jules could feel herself getting restless and more than a little turned on but she knew Yaz no doubt needed the sleep so she eased herself out of bed, determined to occupy herself until Yaz woke up. 

She eyed the stack of medical journals on her coffee table with disdain but realised they’d be the perfect distraction for the time being. Thankfully, she’d left her glasses in the living room because her contacts were still in the en suite and she didn’t want to risk waking Yaz. 

That was how Yaz found her 90 minutes later, nose buried in her third issue of the morning. Jules’s tactic had worked; her choice of reading material was so left-field that she’d almost forgotten how she’d woken up. So much so that she’d already worked through two mugs of coffee and was so thoroughly invested in some findings from a new trial that she didn’t hear Yaz approach until she was right behind her. 

“You’re up early.”

By the sound of it, Yaz had just woken up; her voice was rough with sleep and she was still yawning when Jules tilted her head back to see her rubbing sleepily at her eyes. 

“Morning, gorgeous,” she grinned, marvelling as she observed Yaz’s face from upside down. It was always fun to discover something new, especially when it related to Yaz. 

“I didn't know you wore glasses,” Yaz said, dropping a kiss on her forehead before she moved around the sofa to join her on it properly. Jules lifted her arm and Yaz slid under it, moulding herself to Jules’s side and resting her arm across her waist. 

“I'm not a huge fan of glasses,” Jules hummed contentedly as she felt Yaz yawn against her side. “Contacts are a lot more comfortable and I can wear them to play.”

Yaz pulled back to take a proper look.

“That’s a shame. You should wear these more often.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. They suit you. You look...well…”

Yaz trailed off and tentatively raised her hand to the frames, easing them from Jules’s face. 

“Better without them?” Jules frowned, confused by the mixed messages. 

“No. You look ridiculously sexy,” Yaz huffed. “Like, it’s not even fair how good you look with them on, especially first thing in the morning. Nobody should look that good first thing, even though you always do. But my point was...they’re about to get in my way.”

“Wouldn’t want that,” Jules muttered, her eyes drifting closed as Yaz leaned in for a proper kiss. 

Both of them lost track of time and it was only the sound of the journal in Jules’s lap falling to the floor that separated them with a jolt of surprise. 

“It’s too early to be thinking,” Yaz commented when she saw what Jules had been reading. “Come back to bed.”

“Hmm...critical care interventions or spending the morning in bed with Yasmin Khan. Tough call.” Jules pretended to ponder and burst into laughter when Yaz gave her a gentle punch on the arm. 

“Oi. I woke up and you were gone. I think you should make that up to me,” Yaz protested. “I missed you.”

Jules didn’t miss the way Yaz eyed her neck. She resisted the urge to touch the bruising that was no doubt still there, and which she’d completely forgotten about it. That in itself was a pleasant surprise but also served as a reminder of just how at ease she was in Yaz’s company. Her worries tended to melt away. 

“I didn’t want to wake you, as much as I wanted to,” she admitted. “I woke up too early and I know you’re not a morning person.”

“I am, too,” Yaz scoffed, fake hurt by the accusation. “I’ll show you just how much if you can tear yourself away.”

Having already lost her most recent edition to the floor, Jules abruptly nudged the remaining pile of journals off the coffee table with her foot, ignoring the noise they made as they hit the deck and spilled out across the floor. 

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” she grinned as Yaz burst into surprised laughter at the mess she’d just made. 

“That’s not like you,” Yaz noted, nodding at the mess. “You’re the tidiest person I’ve ever met.”

“Maybe you’re a bad influence. Or a good one,” Jules shrugged. “Either way I’m a different person around you.”

Yaz softened and she captured the hem of Jules’s pyjama shirt with her fingers, playing with the material. 

“It’s a good thing,” Jules assured her. “A lot of my habits are just a way of me feeling in control. But I know with you, there’s only so much control I can have. Does that make sense?”

Yaz nodded. “I think so. I’m still a bit tired,” she admitted, and she absently rubbed at the hickey on her neck as if by way of explanation.

“Sorry about that, by the way.” 

Jules winced when she saw just how vivid the mark was. She’d had a lot of fun leaving it but she also suspected that Yaz had enjoyed it just as much, if not more.

“Don’t be. It’s a handy reminder,” Yaz murmured, her grip tightening on Jules’s shirt. Once more, Jules felt herself being drawn in. Yaz had a certain pull to her no matter what. 

“Maybe this time around I can leave a mark somewhere less obvious?”

Yaz nodded eagerly and shifted back until she was pressed up against the arm of the sofa, taking Jules with her.

“What-”

Yaz shifted so that her legs widened and her back was arched more comfortably against the cushions and Jules finally got the hint. She settled happily between Yaz’s thighs, supporting her weight on her hands. She could already feel the heat of Yaz’s skin through the material of her top, right where her thighs were pressed against her ribs. 

“What happened to a morning in bed?”

“Bed...couch...same difference,” Yaz sighed, placing her hands on Jules’s shoulders but this time, rather than holding her close, she gave her an encouraging nudge downwards. “Either way, I get more time with you and that’s a win.”

Jules happily acquiesced to the less-than-subtle suggestion and only stopped when Yaz tapped out on the third round. Afterwards, when Yaz had finally accepted that a bed might be more comfortable and had given Jules a run for her money, she settled so that her head was resting on Jules's chest.

“This ok?”

“Perfect.” Jules ran her fingers through Yaz’s hair as they recovered. It was nearly noon and she knew they’d need to get up and eat at some point soon but neither of them were willing to admit it. 

“I missed hearing your heart.”

Jules didn’t quite know what to say to that and she paused in her movements.

“That was weird, wasn’t it? Sorry,” Yaz muttered, pulling away, but Jules brought her back. 

“No. It’s alright. I’ve never had someone tell me that before, is all. It’s nice.” She resumed stroking her hair, relaxing when Yaz returned to her previous position.

“There’s so much I could tell you,” Yaz continued, but with her head that low down, Jules couldn’t see her expression to gauge how serious she was being. She knew that there was a lot she wanted to tell Yaz, too, but she didn’t want to rush it.

“We have time.”

They lay there for a while, content just to be comforted by one another.

“It’s funny,” Yaz eventually shifted, pushing herself up to look Jules in the eye. “I didn’t have much of a social life before I joined that team. And now, I have more friends than I’ve ever had, a flat of my own, and a _girlfriend_.”

The look of unbridled joy that accompanied that statement was infectious and Jules found herself taking stock, too. Her life had changed completely, even though at face value nothing much had changed at all. She still had her friends and her hobbies and her own place, but Yaz had come in and changed her perspective completely. She’d reminded her that there was more to life than just work and football. 

She thought of River and their arrangement, which had served a purpose that Yaz now not only fulfilled, but surpassed. 

“And I nearly let that slip,” Yaz continued. “Of all those things, I should have put you first.”

“You did, though, Yaz. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here now.”

“Maybe. But I still feel guilty.” Yaz seemed more troubled than Jules had realised. 

“Hey, maybe we just need to absolve ourselves a little. How about it? We’re making this work. And I don’t know about you but I feel like we’ve steered away from the edge. What we have now is far more stable than anything we had before.”

“Yeah. I think you’re right.” A smile tugged at Yaz’s lips and Jules breathed a sigh of relief. Although her own guilt over what had happened was still there, she found it easier to push it aside the more she thought about how much progress they’d made in the past day alone. 

“Want to absolve yourself some more?” Jules suggested, trying to lighten the mood. “Or maybe after a bite to eat,” she amended when she remembered just how hungry she was. 

“Oh thank god,” Yaz sighed. “I was starting to worry about you. I’ve never known you to skip breakfast.”

“Well, I did technically eat something, but-”

Whatever she was about to say next was abruptly cut off by a pillow being flung in her face. Jules could picture just how flushed Yaz’s cheeks had turned when she squealed in protest at her lewd comment.

“Jules!”

“Yaz, you should know what you’re in for by now. You certainly weren’t complaining about my mouth earlier.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, you can find me on twitter @_mag_lex  
> All my fics can now be found at maglexfic dot wordpress dot com.


	41. FIFA

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! It’s my birthday on none other than Friday the 13th this year (apt) and I thought I’d treat myself to writing a chapter of my faves to mark the occasion. This is pure fluff. I hope you enjoy!

After being encouraged not to return to work until the following week, Jules was at something of a loose end in the interim. Although she very much appreciated some downtime to try and get her head straight, she was never all that good at being left to her own devices if her usual hobbies were out of reach and she was prone to getting lost in thoughts that she didn’t necessarily want to consider. 

In addition, Yaz was on duty until the weekend, when they were due to play a match against one another; it would be Jules’s first time back on the pitch since she’d played Missy. As a result, Jules found her mind wandering and to say she was restless was the understatement of the century. 

But even though Yaz was on shift, she'd started texting Jules throughout the day. That was new. Jules had never known Yaz to bend the rules and keep her phone with her while on duty - she knew Bill did, but Bill got away with murder and Yaz was a stickler for procedure. So it was somewhat touching that Yaz would check in every hour, especially when she eventually abandoned the pretence of asking Jules a question every time and just told her how her day was going or that she was looking forward to seeing her or that she'd read about a film they could watch together. It helped keep Jules sane.

Still, she was a little concerned that Yaz was getting distracted from her job so when she called during her lunch break, Jules voiced her concerns. 

“Are you actually going to have some time to eat, Yaz? I don't want you to miss lunch.” 

It didn’t help that Yaz was also making up for shifts she’d dropped to look after Jules. She wouldn’t have any proper time off for days, and Jules felt a little guilty about that, too. As much as she enjoyed the attention, she didn't want Yaz to tire herself out.

“I can eat in the car. To be honest, Bill’s singing is doing my head in so I also needed a breather before the next half of the shift.”

Jules had a flashback of Bill in a karaoke booth on one of their socials and started laughing.

“She’s a bit tone deaf,” she agreed, but she still couldn’t shake the thought that something wasn’t quite right. Yaz seemed a bit more subdued than usual, even though she chatted away freely. Their conversations always seemed to flow so naturally that Jules was shocked to realise they'd already been talking for the best part of half an hour.

“How are you doing at home? You climbing the walls yet?”

“I’ve debated putting some holds in but I don’t think the neighbours would appreciate the drilling.”

“Is there anything I can do? Want me to pick anything up after work tomorrow?” That would be the next time they saw one another.

“I'm alright, Yaz. Really. You don't have to do that.”

“I don’t have to, no, but I’d like to. It’s reassuring to know you’re ok.”

Jules realised that recent events might have shaken Yaz up more than she thought and felt another pang of guilt.

“I’ll be fine, Yaz. Please, don’t worry. I promise I won’t make an indoor climbing wall without you here to supervise.”

“I suppose that’ll have to do,” Yaz sighed. “And Jules?”

“Yeah?”

Yaz’s reply was lost to the sound of some terrible singing as Bill apparently made her reappearance. There was the sound of muffled conversation on the end of the line - apparently Yaz had covered the phone with her hand - and Jules grinned as she imagined her trying to evade Bill to end the conversation in privacy. 

_“Yeah, yeah. You're whipped. Admit it.”_

“Shut up,” Yaz hissed at Bill, and Jules’s grin broadened as she overheard the tail end of their conversation.

“Anyway, what was I saying? Oh, yeah. I miss you.”

Jules laughed at the sound of Bill making kissing sounds in the background and Yaz ended the call with an undignified sound, clearly unimpressed by her partner’s behaviour. But the moment the call ended, Jules was alone, again, and the flat was far too quiet. 

She missed Yaz, too.

Thankfully, Graham was home when she randomly dropped by to help with the garden that afternoon. Being outside and in his company was a tonic and although he didn’t ask about what had happened, either at the hospital or with Yaz, Jules knew he was more than likely aware of what had transpired; she appreciated that he spent most of the time taking the piss out of her gardening skills, or lack thereof, and it was only when she managed to break one of his chairs while swapping out a blown light-bulb in his hallway that he finally sent her home.

Time just seemed to pass so much slower when there was an abundance of it, or if she was at risk of becoming bored. That didn’t take much. On the plus side, her flat had never been so tidy. But Jules was dismayed that she only managed to fill a few hours the following morning with a run and a gym session. A detour to the local park to feed the ducks didn’t fill much time, either, even though she’d named every single one, so she bit the bullet and finally paid a much-needed visit to the hairdresser. 

That evening, Jules couldn’t stop touching the shorter strands. She was relieved to take some of the weight - literally - off her shoulders, and she smiled when she imagined Yaz’s reaction to the shorter style, which landed just below her jaw; she’d been meaning to get it cut for a while, but life just had a habit of getting in the way. Especially recently. 

But she was debating her decision to get her hair cut so short when Yaz did finally return home. Jules was elbow deep in pizza dough and puffing her hair out of her face every few seconds when the buzzer went. Dusting her hands off on her apron - she’d probably over-kneaded it but it was good stress relief - Jules buzzed Yaz in and opened the door, eager to see her girlfriend after too many days spent apart. 

Yaz’s eyes widened the moment she saw her. 

“You got it cut,” she murmured appreciatively. Jules bit back a sigh of contentment as Yaz’s fingertips ran through it, especially when they lingered on her scalp. “I like it.”

“Phew,” Jules passed a hand over her brow in mock relief, forgetting she was still covered in flour, and Yaz chuckled at the mess she made. 

“Come on, before you leave a trail all over the hallway.” She nudged Jules inside, abandoning her bag on the floor and hanging up her coat before she made her way to the kitchen sink. “Let’s clean you up.”

Jules pulled a face as Yaz scrubbed at the flour all over her forehead. And her cheeks. And, apparently, her chin. But her expression melted away when Yaz finished her task and deposited a gentle kiss on her lips. 

“There. Much more presentable.”

“New hair, new me.”

Yaz narrowed her eyes as something occurred to her.

“You know this is going to be too short to tie up?” 

Jules shrugged. She had only briefly considered the practicalities of it, but she’d wanted to be free from the weight of it. 

“Just fancied a change.”

“Well…” Yaz drawled, hooking her fingers in Jules’s belt loops. “I fancy you. No matter how you look, but this look definitely does things for me.”

“Isn't that lucky?” Jules smirked. She hadn’t realised she’d needed the confidence boost but Yaz was providing one in spades. Her smirk disappeared as Yaz kissed her again, slower, this time, and she could have sworn she felt time bend around them, only in a much better way to anything else she’d felt all week.

“Talking of playing,” Yaz said as she eventually pulled away, “since you missed the last few practice sessions, I thought I'd bring practice to you. Before you go back this weekend.” 

Jules frowned, completely confused. Perhaps the kissing had deprived her of too much oxygen.

“Huh?”

Apparently Yaz had managed to deprive her of logical thought, too, and she rolled her eyes affectionately at Jules’s ineloquence as she rummaged through her bag, pulling out a hunk of plastic and what looked like a DVD case. 

“I made Ryan lend me his Playstation. And,” she paused, hefting the burden in her arms so she could brandish the case proudly, “FIFA.”

“Ahh.” A lightbulb went off. 

Jules was good with machinery - she loved taking things apart and putting them back together - but video games were an unknown quantity. She’d never played them as a kid and she’d quite happily gone through her life without the experience. 

“How much did you have to bargain for that?” Jules laughed, eyeing the console warily as Yaz started to set about plugging it in.

“My first-born child,” Yaz grunted softly as she reached around the back of the TV, which was fortunate because she completely missed Jules’s face flushing. 

It was far too soon to talk about kids. It really was. But something in the way Yaz said it gave Jules pause. She wondered if they’d ever have that particular conversation. She’d rarely considered it herself but there were two of them in this relationship; what if Yaz had strong feelings either way? How would she feel?

Jules cleared her throat, trying to push that thought to one side.

“I mean that’s fair. You’ve probably borrowed his.”

Yaz re-emerged from behind the screen, looking pleased with herself as the connection kicked in and a logo filled the screen. 

“Come on, take a seat. It’ll take a while to load.”

They talked idly on the sofa while the disc whirred to life, almost forgetting what they were meant to be doing while Jules filled Yaz in on all the duck names she’d given out that morning. Yaz was less than impressed by her creativity.

“Duck Norris was inspired, admit it!”

“This is what happens when you spend too much time on your own,” Yaz rolled her eyes again but her lips were twisting upwards in a smile that gave the game away. “Anyway. Enough duck talk. Time for some fighting talk. I hope you’re ready for me to kick your arse.”

It turned out that Jules was terrible at FIFA. Absolutely terrible. Irredeemable, in fact. Yaz wasn’t that good either but she could at least press the right buttons at the right time; Jules spent half her time cycling between the wrong players and swearing at the screen with increasing creativity as Yaz kept scoring goals. For someone who normally played defence, she was lethal in attack.

“What the fuck, Yaz,” she fumed at half time. She didn’t even want to look at the score. “This is awful. And it’s nowhere near as good as the real thing.”

“I’m starting to wish I’d put money on this,” Yaz laughed, abandoning her controller for the time being. “For someone who can play in real life you really can't play FIFA for shit.”

“Oi!” Jules gasped, horrified. “That does it.”

She readily abandoned her own controller and tackled Yaz to the cushions, kissing her breathless as she pinned her down in a show of strength that Yaz certainly wasn’t protesting about if her resultant moan was any indication. 

“My eye-foot coordination is great but my hand-eye coordination is not so good,” she admitted. “Maybe I need my glasses for FIFA.”

“I dunno,” Yaz murmured, tangling her fingers in the short hair at the nape of Jules’s neck. “I'd say your hand-eye coordination is pretty damn good.”

Her hips rocked subtly upwards and she slid a thigh between Jules’s legs, pressing dangerously close. 

“Sure you still want to play FIFA?” Jules raised an eyebrow with a smirk. 

“You clearly need the practice,” Yaz retorted. “And I probably need to keep my hands busy until we’ve had dinner, at least.”

Jules dipped her head again and smiled into the kiss as she felt Yaz arch into her. A gasp was torn from her lips when she felt hands sliding under her shirt, tracing her abs. 

“You're trying to distract me,” she murmured, barely breaking away to speak. Kissing Yaz was always addictive.

“Is it working?”

Jules pulled away abruptly, her head spinning. Try as she might to ignore her competitive side, it niggled at her that Yaz had found something she was terrible at. 

“Nope. I just needed a warm-up. Now I’m gonna kick _your_ arse.”

But if anything, Jules played even worse than before. This time around she chalked it up to how much Yaz had wound her up; moving little men around on a screen was far less entertaining or fulfilling than having sex, for a start, and Jules was thoroughly distracted by the smell of Yaz’s perfume as she sat next to her, even closer than before. That had to be deliberate, she mused.

When Yaz scored again, nudging her with her arm in celebration, Jules realised she was no longer remotely irritated by how badly she was doing. Rather than try and get better at playing, she had realised she much preferred simply spending time in Yaz’s company and to do that, the game came second. Something about the easiness of that moment clicked. 

Even when Yaz made fun of her when she ultimately lost, Jules couldn’t find it in herself to do anything but adore her. She didn’t care that she was shit at FIFA, after all; she just loved that Yaz could tease her like that. 

Later that night, in bed with Yaz, Jules thought about how she’d felt and let it settle. She knew she loved Yaz, she’d realised that on the beach; the familiar ease with which they’d spent the evening just confirmed for her how she felt. With each passing moment her feelings took shape and became more tangible than ever. Yaz being back in her life was like the missing piece of the puzzle. Their time apart had just amplified how Jules felt and made things easier to discern and understand. 

Jules turned onto her side, facing Yaz. She had a tendency to tilt her head downwards when she slept, so Jules could only make out the bridge of her nose and the gentle slope of her lips as she breathed slowly in sleep. 

Jules reached out to brush some stray hair from her forehead and waited to see if she would respond. Nothing. 

She spoke softly and without thinking, spurred on by a need to say the words aloud. 

“I love you.”

Jules froze when Yaz made a sound and shifted, as if in response. Had she been too loud? Had Yaz heard her? That was not quite the way she’d want Yaz to find out what she was thinking. 

Jules held her breath as Yaz settled again, apparently none the wiser, and curled into her side. The relief Jules felt in that moment was immense. She knew she was going to have to tell Yaz soon, but she was more than a little nervous about it. 

It had been a long time since she'd said those words to anybody. Jules regularly expressed her love for things, like custard creams or a decent cup of tea or a brilliant goal or her favourite Wombats song, but people? Jules didn’t often tell people that she loved them. Even more, Jules wasn’t certain she’d ever felt that way, about anybody.

Why was that? Jules lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling and grounding herself in the feel of Yaz pressed up so closely against her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d met anyone quite like Yaz, that was why. And now, she couldn’t imagine a universe without her. Jules laid her hand on top of Yaz’s where it rested on her stomach, accepting that she wasn’t going to get a wink of sleep now that she’d started thinking. 

Yaz made another happy sound in her sleep and Jules wished she could see what she was dreaming about. She wondered what Yaz’s dreams were. The more tangible ones, that was; the ones she could actually accomplish in real life, the ones that Jules could be a part of. The more she thought about it, the more Jules realised that she wanted to help her accomplish those dreams. 

Jules’s mind drifted back to what Yaz had said about children, earlier that evening. Her reaction to the offhand comment had startled her, not because she hadn't been expecting it but because the thought of kids didn't fill her with fear, for once. She'd always thought the world was too dangerous for a child - but Yaz had shown her that life was beautiful. Would she want a family with Yaz? 

Jules huffed as she kept mulling things over. Late-night thinking was always risky and it tended to go off on grand tangents, if her most recent thoughts were anything to go by. It was a good thing she didn’t need much sleep.

There was a shift in Yaz’s breathing; Jules sensed, milliseconds before she spoke, that she’d woken up.

“You still awake?”

Half-asleep Yaz was one of her favourite things. 

“Sorry, Yaz. Did I wake you?”

“Nah. Been having the strangest dreams.”

Jules cuddled her closer and kissed the top of her head. She smiled as she felt Yaz kiss her collarbone. 

“You're not still stewing over FIFA, are you?” 

“No,” Jules laughed. “Just too wired to sleep.”

She shivered as a warm hand suggestively tugged at the elastic of her boxers. 

“Want me to help?”

“You already did, babe.” 

Yaz frowned; Jules could see it in the darkness of the room as she turned her face up to regard her properly. Being unable to sleep meant that at least she’d adjusted to the dark; Yaz was having to catch up.

“Hmm. Something's up if you're that distracted. Do you wanna talk about it?” Yaz’s tone was tentative, as if she wasn’t sure if she should ask.

Jules sighed. She knew she should talk to Yaz but the things she was thinking about were way too heavy to discuss in the middle of the night, or at that particular stage of their relationship. 

“I do, but..not just yet.” 

“Alright,” Yaz replied, easily moving on. Jules felt herself relax a little. “Why don't you tell me a story? That usually sends you to sleep as much as it does me.”

That got her attention. Jules frowned downwards, trying to see if Yaz was being serious.

“I can't tell if I should be offended by that.”

“Your stories aren't boring,” Yaz amended. “I love hearing them. It's just your voice, it's soothing.”

Mollified, Jules relaxed into the pillows again. Then, she flipped things on their head. After all, Yaz had been so focused on her and her needs that Jules hadn’t been very good at asking about how she was doing. 

“Why don't you tell me a story? Doesn’t matter what. Something about you.”

“Sure. Just give me a mo.”

They lay in silence for so long that Jules wondered if Yaz had fallen back to sleep. She startled slightly when she eventually broke the quiet. 

“My Nani gave me a watch once. Remind me to show you one day. It was broken, cracks all over the face of it, you know? And my dad said he'd get it fixed but she said no, flat-out refused. She wouldn't tell us why. But one day, a few years ago, she finally told me.”

“Oh? How come?”

“When I was being bullied at school, they found out I'd kissed a girl. That was my first kiss and all, and I was so confused, you know how it is. But to make things worse, all that did was give them more ammo. It was horrid. And one day I came home, all upset, and she just...knew. I didn’t tell her who I’d kissed and she still doesn’t know the truth about my love life, technically, but I think she kind of guessed it, way back then.”

“I think grandmothers have a sixth sense.” 

“And mothers. Except mine zeroes in on all the wrong things,” Yaz groaned, and Jules wondered just what Yaz’s mum was like. She’d heard Yaz mention things here and there but she’d never met her. She wondered when she would. But she’d also never really had a mother of her own, so she waited patiently for Yaz to resume her story; she didn’t feel qualified to comment. 

“Anyway, my Nani told me that watch belonged to a man from a different faith, someone she wasn't meant to love, and she loved him anyway. She loved him so much she married him, but not long after that, he died.”

“Oh, no,” Jules murmured. She’d never met Yaz’s Nani, either, but her heart positively ached for her. The thought of being permanently separated from someone she loved - from Yaz - was unbearable and made even more visceral by the fact she’d only just realised the depth of her feelings. The universe might well be on her side right now, but Yaz’s story was a reminder that things didn’t always work out. The past few weeks had shown that to be true. Jules hoped the universe would be on their side from now on.

“Yeah. It was pretty awful. And it made me feel like a bit of a tit, you know? There’s me getting all upset about a kiss.”

“But that’s understandable, Yaz,” Jules cut in. “It’s confusing. And what you went through was terrible.”

“Maybe,” Yaz sighed. “She never told me why she gave me that watch but you know what I think? I think that was her way of telling me that love is the most important thing of all, no matter what happens. Or who you love. And that you should hold onto the people who make you happy, because you have no way of knowing what's around the corner.”

As if for emphasis, Yaz's grip around her waist tightened. 

There was a pause; Yaz looked up and they regarded one another for a long moment that was pregnant with possibility. Jules held her breath. Was Yaz about to say something? It felt like they were nearing an emotional topic, the very one that had been keeping Jules awake. 

“Having that history and not telling a soul...she kind of reminds me of you, Jules. Stoic. Strong.”

Jules exhaled as Yaz reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers. 

“But I'm here if you want to share anything. I don't want you carrying things alone, like she did her whole life. She never even told my mum.” 

Jules nodded, dumbstruck. Yaz had surprised her with an emotional story that had demonstrated just how much she cared. About her family, and about Jules. 

“Not a bad story for someone who just woke up.” Her voice wobbled and Jules realised she was just about holding back tears. 

“Are you…” Yaz pushed herself upwards, concerned. Her expression softened when she realised. “Oh, Jules. Come here. You're a big softie.”

“Don't tell anyone,” Jules sniffed, wrapping Yaz tightly in her arms.

“Your secret is safe with me. All of them. You can tell me anything. Alright?”

Jules nodded and thanked her lucky stars. Eventually, the wave of emotion passed and she knew what she needed to do.

“I’m going to kiss you lots, now, to make up for those horrible times. Sound good?”

Yaz nodded.

“Sounds amazing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m a big fan of short hair 13. So sue me.   
> As always, you can find me on twitter @_mag_lex  
> All my fics can now be found at maglexfic dot wordpress dot com. I'll be posting any new fics on there from now on (once Own Goal is complete 🙂)


	42. Surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know if it’s hugely obvious but this is actually the point of the original story at which Yaz’s POV switched with that of Jules (ie, the epilogue, before I decided to carry on after a few people bribed me with wine). So hopefully it’s all lined up! And now I think I'm going to treat myself to a large glass of wine, after all.

“Jules?”

There was a cat talking to her. That was weird. Jules was certain cats couldn’t talk but then again, she was certain she’d never seen a cat dressed like a nun, either, or walk around on two legs. The cat spoke again but this time the voice was one she recognised. She just couldn’t quite place it at that moment in time.

“Hmm?”

Already the image was fading, darkening, and there was gentle pressure on her shoulder that became more and more tangible with every passing second.

“Baby, wake up.”

“What?” Jules blurted, eyes flying open as she saw, with a start, that Yaz was standing next to her and gently shaking her awake. 

“It’s ok, it’s only me. You were fast asleep and slept through the alarm.”

“Shit,” Jules mumbled, rubbing at her eyes and pushing herself upright. It was later than she’d slept in a while, and she didn’t even need to look at a clock to realise she’d overslept: she felt saturated with sleep, dopey and confused and a touch too warm, tangled in the sheets and still trying to figure out what was real and what was a dream in the broad light of day that was trying to break through the curtains. Those cat nuns had seemed very real. Yaz was also already out of bed, which was odd - of the two of them, Jules was nearly always awake first. She blinked slowly, trying to shake off the cobwebs. 

She’d stayed up far too late the previous night, eager to put in place the final parts of her plan for that afternoon but she’d paid the price; clearly, the TV show she’d had on in the background had made an impact, even though she’d not been paying much attention. Yaz had been fast asleep when she’d finally gone to bed, none the wiser as to her post-match plans. Still, Jules considered it an evening well spent and she hoped her organisation would pay off, especially in light of the strange dreams she’d endured as a result of her late-night preparations.

“You must have been knackered,” Yaz smiled sympathetically. “I didn’t really want to wake you but I know you wouldn’t want to miss the game.”

“Oh, shit,” Jules yawned. “How late am I?”

“Not late. We’ve got a couple of hours, enough time for some food and to get ready.”

“Phew,” Jules sighed, flopping back to the pillows, even though she really did need to get out of bed. She just needed a moment and felt out of sorts after being woken from the middle of such a vivid dream. Even so, she could tell that Yaz seemed to be distracted; she kept playing with the ring on her finger. 

“Coffee?” Yaz asked, and Jules nodded eagerly. Caffeine was exactly what she needed and she could already smell the comforting aroma of a fresh brew as she shifted upright to drink it. 

Yaz reached for a mug she’d already deposited on the bedside table and Jules marvelled at how she seemed to have slept through so much. Her hearing was superb and she was a light sleeper, so for Yaz to have not only left bed but made coffee was a true surprise. Perhaps she really was tired; forced rest and relaxation seemed to have made Jules realise just how exhausted she was. It had been an eventful year, to say the least. 

“You’re a lifesaver,” she muttered gratefully, almost scalding her tongue on the bitter liquid as she ignored Yaz’s warning that it was probably still too hot to drink. 

“I, er...I have something else for you.”

“Oh?” Jules took another sip and placed the mug to one side, wanting to devote her full attention to her girlfriend. A quick scan of her surroundings revealed an absence of custard creams but Yaz was rummaging in the pocket of her dressing gown - technically Jules’s, but she had basically claimed it for herself and Jules certainly wasn’t going to argue with that, especially when she looked so cute wrapped up in it.

“Nothing big, or edible,” Yaz smiled as she spotted Jules looking, but she was nervous. Even half-awake, Jules could tell she was nervous. That, in turn, made her a little nervous, because now that she’d been pulled from her dreams she realised that today was the day her plan was going to come into action; several parts were already in motion, even now, assuming Donna had held up her end of the bargain. 

But Jules’s thoughts and worries quietened when Yaz finally retrieved a small package wrapped in tissue paper, which Jules eyed with interest. Good things often came in small packages, and she tried to remain calm as Yaz placed it in her hand. It felt light, but there was clearly a box within, judging by the edges Jules could feel against her palm.

“What’s this?” Jules resisted the urge to rip the paper off immediately. 

“Why don’t you open it and find out?”

Jules was wide awake now. Her mind was racing with possibilities and she fumbled with the tape, cursing her short fingernails and abandoning any pretence of caution as she instead ripped the yellow tissue paper open with abandon. She didn’t often receive gifts, and excitement at the unexpected surprise - as well as a smidgen of nerves - drove her onwards. She paused only momentarily when she realised her guess had been correct, and that Yaz had indeed given her something in a box. There were no clues on the outside as to what it contained. Her best guess was perhaps some jewellery of some kind but something in Yaz’s face suggested it wasn’t something that simple. She was clearly waiting to explain herself.

Jules took a breath and eased it open, uncertain what to expect.

Inside lay a key, and Jules blinked in surprise. There was no chain, and nothing on the key to indicate what it was for, although Jules had an idea. She looked to Yaz in question. Even though it looked like an ordinary key, it was anything but ordinary if it opened what she suspected it might. But she needed Yaz to confirm her suspicions before she made an utter fool of herself.

“It’s a key to my flat,” Yaz explained, then bit her lip. “I wanted to give you something to try and make it up to you. For not being there when you needed me to be. I want you to know that I will always be there. That way, you can come over whenever you like. I don’t want there to be a barrier between us if you need me.” 

Jules blinked again, letting the words wash over her. Yaz wasn’t asking her to move in but she was starting to move them down a path by which that might become a real possibility. Baby steps, but definitely progress.

Yaz was still fidgeting as Jules considered what she’d said. “Or, you know, I mean-”

Jules broke out into a grin as Yaz started to ramble. _God,_ _I love you_.

But rather than verbalising her thoughts, which would have been an impulsive slip, Jules cut Yaz off with a kiss instead. The words dried up as Yaz kissed her back, her lips soft and sure and no longer caught up in a flurry of anxious explanation. 

“Yaz," she enthused. "That’s ace.” 

“Yeah?” Yaz’s shoulders slumped in relief as the tension in them started to ebb away. “I thought it might make things easier. You know, if...or when...you wanted to stay over. There’s no pressure, though.”

“It’s the best surprise. I promise.” Jules had to bite her tongue because she had a surprise of her own and Yaz’s timing was impeccable, even if she didn’t quite know it yet. She almost had to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t still dreaming. 

“It was the least I could do,” Yaz murmured, dipping her head. “You’re like...the best person I’ve ever met. I wanted to show you how much you mean to me.”

Jules felt her own cheeks flushing. There were words on the tip of her tongue, words she was desperate to say and desperate for Yaz to hear. But she needed to be patient, which was something she wasn’t very good at. The timing had to be perfect and she consoled herself with the fact that her plan was already underway. She just had to wait, and hope that Yaz would be just as delighted as she was by the key in her hand.

That key held a world of possibilities that Jules was only just starting to grasp.

“So when I’ve just come off a night shift, I can come over and wake you up?”

Yaz squinted at her. 

“Depends what you mean by that, Jules.”

“I can demonstrate.” Jules placed the key on the table, beckoning Yaz to her. The moment Yaz was close enough she tugged her down to the mattress, hands roaming freely over her back. 

“Ohh,” Yaz drawled, cheeks flushed as she cottoned on to what Jules was suggesting. “You mean…”

“Sexfast, yeah.”

“You do _not_ call it that,” Yaz gasped, then burst into laughter. “I regret my decision. I’m taking that key back.”

“What happened to there being no barriers between us, babe?”

Yaz tucked some of Jules’s hair behind her ear; despite her mock horror at the awful slang, she still regarded her far more tenderly than Jules thought she deserved for that deliberately provocative lingo. 

“It’s a good thing I-”

Yaz caught herself. 

“It’s a good thing you get me,” Jules suggested, and Yaz nodded, clearly relieved that she’d not landed herself in hot water. Once again there was an elephant in the room but Jules found herself hoping they could avoid it for just a little longer. 

“And my enjoyment of the breakfast of champions,” she continued, trying to lighten the mood. Yaz groaned and Jules let her hands come to rest on the curve of her backside. 

“Talking of, we should make a move.”

“Finally,” Jules sighed, hands reaching for the belt of the dressing gown. In the space of the past five minutes she’d grown to hate it, and in particular how it had become something of an obstacle to where Jules’s hands wanted to roam.

“Nuh uh.” Yaz pulled away and Jules pouted. 

“What?”

“I read that sex isn’t allowed before games," Yaz teased. "And I don’t actually think we have enough time,” she added, grimacing apologetically. 

“Oh god. I’m going to retire.”

Jules knew she sounded overly dramatic but she was seriously reconsidering her decision to devote her spare time to a hobby that deprived her of quality time spent with Yaz. 

Yaz’s mouth opened and shut without a sound.

“From football, right? Not sex.”

“Of course from football,” Jules rolled her eyes. “As if that’s even a question.”

But Yaz’s focus was laser sharp. Jules had let her guard down, and she blamed Yaz’s proximity for that entirely. It was hard to think straight when she smelled that good, or felt that good, or looked that good. However many brain cells Jules may have possessed, it didn’t matter: they all helpfully decided to vacate the premises.

“Your one true love? You’d give that up for me?”

Jules realised she may have said too much when she saw how serious Yaz had become. To make matters worse, the mention of that particular word threw her completely. She fumbled for a reply of some kind and segued into a completely different train of thought. 

“Well...sex. Morning sex, in particular. You know: mornication.”

Yaz groaned again at the clumsy slang and Jules felt herself regain some self-control as she tried to change the subject. This was not how she wanted to spill the beans.

“Whatever you call it, Yaz, it’s good. Better than football, I mean. Yeah. Better than football."

Yaz tilted her head as Jules felt her face grow pink. Even if she’d managed to cover her tracks with words - which she clearly hadn’t - simple physiology would have betrayed her. 

“Oh, god,” she muttered, flustered, as Yaz broke into a delighted grin. “I need more coffee.”

A gentle palm on her cheek stopped her moving away.

“Hey, I was only kidding,” Yaz murmured. “Come on, coffee, breakfast, and then the game. We can make up with lots of sex later. Promise.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

* * *

Yaz smiled as she scrolled through her phone, catching up on her messages while Jules finished getting ready. She was pulling up her socks, breakfast demolished and hopefully almost ready to fuel her through the match. 

"My dad says he'd love to come and see a game one day, by the way.” 

Jules faffed with the elastic by her kneecaps for longer than was strictly necessary, unsure what to make of Yaz’s offhand comment. Was Yaz saying her dad wanted to watch Yaz play, or both of them? If the latter, did that mean Yaz's dad knew she existed, and in what capacity? And if her dad knew, did that mean Yaz's mum did, too? 

Curiosity won out, as it always did. 

“Do your parents...” she trailed off, wondering just what Yaz had told them. This was the first time Yaz had alluded to disclosing their relationship to her parents but she’d mentioned it so casually that Jules wondered if she’d got the wrong end of the stick entirely.

“I might have mentioned you, yeah,” Yaz nodded, pocketing her phone. "They're still adjusting to the fact I have a girlfriend, rather than a boyfriend, but my dad really wants to see you in action. I told him you're good.”

Jules was touched. Yaz hadn't mentioned that she was planning on telling them; even more affecting was the fact that her dad - someone Jules had never even met - wanted to watch her play because she was dating his daughter. But the prospect made her nervous. She’d never had to meet anybody’s parents before and she had no idea what to expect. 

“And my mum…” Yaz sighed, “well, my mum just wants to grill you. She wants to know _all_ about who I’m shacking up with.”

Jules raised an eyebrow. In retrospect that surprised her less, given what Yaz had told her about her mum. But the fact that Yaz had even told her parents about their relationship was a big deal, even though she’d glossed over it; and on one level, Jules was ridiculously excited to meet them, despite her inexperience. 

“Well, how about they come to our next game? So long as they don't mind seeing you lose.”

“I dunno, Jules. You seem awfully sure about that. Let's see how things go today, eh?”

Yaz zipped up her hoodie and waited for Jules to join her by the door, leaning against it with her arms folded. Jules couldn’t help but notice the newfound confidence Yaz exuded. It wasn't just her posture that suggested how at ease she was; that she could stand up for herself and call Jules out on her bullshit was an interesting development but Jules realised she needed that. She needed an equal, or at the very least somebody who was unafraid to stand up for herself, as well as for others. 

She recalled the Yaz she’d first encountered several months ago and although she was still, in essence, the same woman she’d fallen for, there was something else there that made her even more attractive. Jules wondered if it was feasible to fall more in love with someone and readily accepted the possibility without a second thought. 

* * *

Of course, Yaz’s team wiped the floor with Jules’s team, not that Jules cared in the slightest. There was a saying that people could wake up on the wrong side of bed but Jules was starting to wonder if she’d woken up on the right one, even while Donna chewed her out. 

“Jules, what’s up with you? Why are you so bloody happy? You lost!” 

"No," Jules grinned. "I really didn't."

Donna turned to look and sighed when she saw just who Jules was watching.

“You’re such a sap.”

“Yeah,” Jules agreed with a happy sigh. “Talking of, did you manage to get it all?”

“Yes, although I had to tell him what it was for. And then,” Donna put her hands on her hips, “he told me he caught you two in the car park after a game. You failed to mention that."

“Oh god,” Jules groaned as she recalled her first date with Yaz, and how Wilf had walked past them at a rather crucial moment. “I was hoping he’d forgotten.”

“Far from it,” Donna pursed her lips. “Anyway, I’ve left it all behind the shed. You just need to give us some time to get it all set up, alright? And,” Donna wagged her finger, “no funny business. Above the belt, if you know what I mean.”

“You got it,” Jules laughed, her gaze already drifting back to Yaz, who was still chatting animatedly with her team while they stretched. Jules just had to try and draw her away for long enough that the others could help Donna set things up. Although it felt like cheating to enrol the help of not one, but two, football teams, Jules needed all the help she could get if she was to surprise Yaz. She was very observant.

“Car key’s in my kit bag and you’ll find everything else in the boot.” Jules patted Donna on the back in gratitude, and acknowledged her threat - that she’d expect Jules to repay the favour - in good humour.

Thankfully, distracting Yaz was easy. Jules shrugged on her hoodie and held out Yaz’s so that she could slide into it. The weather was mild but with what Jules had in mind, she needed them to stay outside for a while longer. And although some of the others were discussing a post-match pub trip, Jules had other plans for her and Yaz. The suggestion of a pub trip was something of a red herring. 

“Hey, Yaz? Want to learn how to do a rainbow flick?”

If Yaz was bemused by the random request, or by the alacrity with which her teammates abandoned their conversation, she didn’t show it. 

“A what?”

Jules beckoned her over to the side, subtly positioning Yaz so that her back was to the other end of the pitch. She glanced over Yaz’s shoulder to check the wheels were in motion. So far, so good: Donna had clearly managed to find everything in her car and was starting to set up with help from several others including Martha, Clara, and Rose. 

“A rainbow flick.” Jules demonstrated easily, rolling the ball up the inside of one leg before flicking it upwards with the heel of her other foot, into a neat arc over her head.

“Is that the official name or did you christen it?” Yaz watched keenly as Jules demonstrated again.

“Hand on heart, that’s the proper name. Comes from the shape of the arc the ball makes,” Jules flicked the ball over her head again. “But that's probably why it’s my favourite trick. Who doesn't love a rainbow?”

Yaz raised an eyebrow. She was used to Jules showing off but for once, Jules simply wanted to divert Yaz's attention from what was going on behind her. Showing off was the last thing on her mind.

After a few more flicks, Yaz gamely gestured for the ball and Jules bit back a grin as she fell for the bait. If there was one thing she knew about Yaz, it was that she'd try anything in the name of competition. 

But even Yaz had to admit defeat after a solid fifteen minutes of attempted rainbow flicks. Jules opted not to tell her just how long it had taken her to learn the move. That had been a very slow week.

“I think I’m going to have to give up,” Yaz sighed in disappointment. “One day I'll get there but right now how about we head back? Come on, let’s get changed and-”

“No!”

Jules reached out to stop Yaz before she could turn around and see the final preparations just as they were being made. She only needed a few more seconds to make sure the coast was clear, judging by the fact that most of their friends were now out of sight and presumably back in the changing rooms. Only Donna and Martha remained, apparently determined to make sure everything was perfect. Jules felt the nerves return with a flutter when she realised what she was about to do.

“Whoa. What’s up with you?” Yaz laughed, taken aback by her protest. 

Thankfully, Bill had nearly made her way over to them and was winking dramatically at Jules to let her know that everything had gone to plan.

"Nothing. Erm. Bill! Look, there’s Bill. Hiya, Bill,” Jules grinned, although she could tell it probably looked manic.

"Alright, guys? I was just talking with the others and we were discussing playing a game in dresses. What do you think?" 

"Sounds brilliant," Jules enthused, relieved that she could soon drop the charade. She moved so that she and Bill stood side by side, blocking Yaz's view of the goal. "Right, Yaz?"

"Yeah….I guess? I don't think I even have a dress," Yaz frowned. She didn't seem sold on the idea and if Jules had been paying attention she wouldn't have been either, but her mind was elsewhere. 

"Come to think of it I'm not sure I do either," Bill pondered, then shrugged. "We can hit the charity shops after work next week. But for now...I think Jules might have something else in mind." 

Bill stepped aside and Yaz frowned again as she finally caught a glimpse of what was at the end of the pitch. 

“Why are there...flowers? In goal?”

“Why don’t you go and find out?” Bill suggested, and Jules held out her hand for Yaz to take. 

“Yeah, come on, Yaz. Take a walk with me a sec.”

“What- Bill?” Yaz turned to her partner in question, but Bill was shaking her head.

“Just go with it, Yaz. I’ll see you Monday.”

Jules tamped down a fresh wave of nerves as she felt Yaz’s hand tighten around her own. She could see that their friends had done a much better job than she’d expected, and she knew she’d have to make it up to them. But that was a thought for another day. Right now, she had far more important things to worry about and they all involved the woman holding her hand.

“Thought you might fancy a bite to eat.”

Yaz gasped as they finally drew near enough for her to see the picnic basket. Jules had spent most of the previous evening putting it together and had even pretended to forget something while Yaz waited for her in the car before the match, running back up to fetch it while Yaz was blissfully unaware, and stowing it in the boot while she fiddled with the radio. 

“A picnic? A surprise picnic?” Yaz broke out into a smile. 

“Yeah. Believe it or not, I had planned this for today and after you surprised me this morning...well, our timing is pretty good. Feels only right that I get to surprise you, too. Although the telescope might have been a bit optimistic, it’s nowhere near dark enough just yet, but I’m sure Wilf wouldn’t mind if I borrowed it again, he’s-”

“Jules, slow down. You’re talking a mile a minute.” 

“Sorry,” Jules exhaled, stopping herself short. Yaz was right. She was getting more and more nervous, but seeing everything laid out just so - from the picnic blanket to the tea lights to the rose petals strewn around the place in a surprisingly artistic fashion - made her realise that this gesture couldn’t be interpreted as anything but romantic. And she didn’t normally do romance, which was why she’d been so grateful for the help of her friends. 

“Come sit with me,” Yaz suggested, easing herself down and patting the space next to her. She was clearly intrigued by the contents of the basket and Jules rummaged around inside, pulling out the carefully prepared fruit and sandwiches to retrieve a chilled bottle of prosecco. 

“Would you like some?”

Yaz nodded, laughing at Jules’s face while she wrestled with the cork. They both jumped when it finally relented and apparently, in the rush to get things ready, someone had jostled it; bubbles rapidly emerged, fizzing all over Jules’s hands as she aimed the neck of the bottle at the glasses Yaz held up for her. 

“Ah, shit,” she cursed, tutting at the mess she’d made. 

“Good thing we’re not anywhere fancy,” Yaz laughed, and Jules flushed. She’d debated taking Yaz to a swanky restaurant but it hadn’t felt right. She’d wanted this gesture to come from the heart, and the second she’d thought of a picnic on the pitch it had been a no-brainer.

“Think I knew I’d have mucked that up anywhere else,” Jules admitted, trying to dry her hands on her shorts. Perhaps a nice restaurant might have been a better idea, she thought; not all of her romantic gestures should involve football, after all. But self-doubt wasn’t something she was hugely familiar with and she floundered a little.

“It’s sweet,” Yaz continued, as if she could sense her second thoughts. “And it’s very you. That’s all that matters to me.”

Jules cleared her throat. 

“That’s good. You see, I figured this was the best place to do this.”

“Oh?”

“I needed to tell you something important. I’m sure you remember that this is the pitch where we first got to meet each other?”

Yaz nodded, watching Jules intently. 

“It means a lot to me for that reason, because you mean a lot to me, Yaz.”

Jules abandoned her glass, wishing her fingers weren’t quite so sticky when she reached out for Yaz’s hands. But any discomfort was quickly forgotten about when she looked into Yaz’s eyes and saw nothing but gentle encouragement. She could do this.

“You are, without a doubt, the best thing that has ever happened to me. I would give up everything else tomorrow, but you? I could never do that. And I hope I'll never have to because I love you, Yasmin Khan.”

Yaz was already tearing up and Jules could feel her heart trying to escape from her chest. This was, by far, one of the most nerve-wracking things she’d ever done. Even though she had an inkling that her feelings were reciprocated, she knew she couldn’t necessarily expect Yaz to say those words back to her; she had to put herself out there and hope for the best. And despite everything that had happened, the potential for hurt was hugely outweighed by her desire to tell Yaz how she felt. It was more than that, really: it was an urge to confess. 

“When I think about it I’ve loved you for a while now, Yaz. I've just been waiting for the right moment to tell you. You know, this morning I nearly did,” she laughed, recalling their stilted conversation in bed.

“Ah! I knew it,” Yaz smiled, eyes still watering. “I knew something was up. I think I could tell you were trying not to say something.” 

“What can I say?” Jules grinned. “Turns out I’m a romantic at heart. Just needed the right time. And the right person.”

“It’s a good thing I have a soft spot for hopeless romantics, then.” 

“Even if I'm terrible at FIFA?”

“Especially since you're terrible at FIFA. I was starting to worry you were too good to be true. It's nice to know you're human after all. But you know, you're pretty damn good at everything else that matters.”

Jules felt the very tips of her ears growing warm. 

“I thought you knew. I told you a few days ago when you were asleep, just to try it out for size. You made this cute little sound and I thought-”

“I am not cute. Especially when I sleep,” Yaz protested.

“I beg to differ. And how do you know how you look when you sleep? I'm the expert on that, I think you’ll find. Anyway, I thought you'd heard me because you woke up not much later. And then you told me about your Nani, do you remember that? And I thought you were about to say it and beat me to it.”

“It's funny, because I nearly did.”

Jules felt her heart leap into her throat. They weren’t the words but they were the closest Yaz had come to saying them. 

“I wanted to make sure we'd both remember it, though,” Yaz continued. “And this is pretty memorable.” She gestured around them.

“Even with the football?”

“Even with the football, Jules. None of this is conditional. You might be terrible at FIFA and borderline obsessed with football, but I couldn’t imagine it any other way.”

Yaz glanced towards the picnic basket. 

“Was this why you were up so late last night, being secretive?”

“Maybe.”

“And everyone else…”

“Everyone else helped me set it up, yeah. I just really wanted to surprise you.”

Yaz sniffed as the tears threatened to spill over. 

“You okay, Yaz? What's wrong?” 

Yaz sighed, but it was a contented sound that eased the last of Jules’s nerves. 

“I'm just so happy. These are happy tears. I didn't think I could feel like this. And I reckon you might be the only person who has made me feel like this.”

Jules pulled the sleeve of her hoodie over her hand and brushed Yaz’s tears away. 

“I've been thinking about how to say this for a while, too. I told my parents because I knew that I was going to tell you how I felt. I felt like I was keeping a secret from them and that didn’t feel right, either. They’ve been there through a lot, you know?” 

Jules nodded. 

“And when I was figuring out how to tell them, worrying about what they were going to say about it all, it just made me think about a holiday I took once.” 

“A holiday?” Jules was thrown by the change in topic, but she knew Yaz would talk her through it. 

“It was the first time I’d gone abroad, after my A-levels. Some tacky strip in Cyprus, you know the kind I mean? And it was the first time I'd been away from home without my parents but they helped pay for it because I managed to improve my grades after...well.”

“After you ran away?”

Yaz nodded.

“Anyway, it's exciting, isn't it? That first time you take off on a plane. You have no idea what to expect. The noise of the engine as you speed down the runway is so loud it's kind of scary. The little lurch you get as you leave the ground behind and you realise you're actually flying? It's like nothing else.”

Yaz took a breath. 

“But then you hit clouds and the plane drops and your stomach is in knots. You think you're going to fall out of the sky - even though it's practically impossible, you can't help but listen to that part of your brain. So you hold on until you make it through that cloud because the moment you do, you're home free.”

Jules nodded. She knew exactly what Yaz was referring to; they’d been through a turbulent patch only recently.

“I feel like we just broke through that cloud, like we’ve left it behind. I feel like I'm flying, Jules. I feel like nothing could bring me down again, not with you here, because I love you, too. You make me stupidly happy.”

Jules felt her eyes start to sting at the words and she cupped Yaz’s face in her hands, planting a kiss on her lips before she lost control completely. It was soft and tender and healing. 

It also prompted a raucous cheer from the other end of the pitch. 

“What the…”

Yaz pulled away and hid her face in her hands when she saw that their friends hadn’t left; instead, they were clapping and whistling and making a complete ruckus.

“The bastards,” Jules flushed. “I knew I shouldn’t have got them involved."

“I was so sure they’d gone,” Yaz murmured. “Oh, god.”

“Oi, clear off,” Jules hollered, muttering a curse under her breath as Donna made a heart with her hands. “That pub is going to go out of business without you.”

Jules resolutely ignored them as she checked in with Yaz. 

“Sorry, Yaz. That’s my fault. I should have known they’d have a vested interest.”

“That’s alright,” Yaz laughed, finally looking Jules in the eye. She was clearly mortified that they’d had an audience. “I suppose they played a large part in us getting together.”

“Still,” Jules demurred, “I didn’t think they’d actually hang around, especially if the pub was on the cards.”

“That’s alright,” Yaz grinned, and then she flipped Bill off for good measure. “In a way it just made that moment even more memorable. Not that I’m ever going to forget it.”

“Yeah?” Jules breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Yeah. And talking of…” Yaz nodded towards the food. “As much as I love the picnic, do you think we could move this inside? Behind closed doors and away from prying eyes? Because what I want to do next is definitely not for public viewing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, you can find me on twitter @_mag_lex
> 
> All my fics can now be found at maglexfic dot wordpress dot com and I’ll be posting any new stories there from now on :)


	43. Dresses

_One month later_

Grace was laughing so hard that she had tears in her eyes. Jules could hear her before she even entered the staff room at the end of shift and when she saw Grace bent over at the waist, gasping for breath, she couldn’t help but laugh herself. 

“Grace O’Brien, what’s got you so tickled?”

“Oh, love,” Grace sighed, wiping the tears from her eyes. “I think I have you to thank for this.”

She held up her phone for Jules to see what she was laughing at and although it took her a second to realise just what she was looking at, the photograph was unmistakably of Graham in a dress. He looked more than a little disgruntled. 

“He said you’re playing a game in dresses for charity, and that the coaches had to dress up, too. Literally.” 

Grace laughed at her own joke and Jules groaned, although her heart wasn’t in it; the visual of Graham in a knee-length vintage dress, complete with clashing stripey socks pulled halfway up his shins, was too funny to really put a dent in her mood. She sympathised with him entirely. 

“He kept that one quiet until he needed some advice on what to wear,” Grace continued. “I’ve told him to get that dress but you should have seen some of the others he tried on. Wish I’d seen that with my own two eyes.”

Jules groaned again.

“Oh god. I’ve not even bought mine yet.”

It really had slipped her mind - already not a true priority given her reluctance to actually wear a dress, the task of actually purchasing one had slipped to the bottom of her rapidly expanding to-do list. 

Her life had got back on track ever since her return to work and Jules was thriving on having such a jam-packed schedule. She never stopped moving or doing, which meant she rarely had time to herself, and that suited her just fine. It had also meant that dress shopping hadn’t registered as something she needed to do all that urgently, but the month had flown by.

Ever since she’d returned to work she’d thrown herself back into things with enthusiasm. Yaz had kept a close eye on her but Jules was genuinely energised and raring to go, largely because of Yaz herself. Even though it had been a month since they’d confessed their love for one another, Jules was still floating on the endorphins. 

Those endorphins faded only slightly at the reminder of their charity match the next day. It had been all Bill’s idea, something she’d thought of on the spur of the moment but which she’d persevered with, much to Jules’s chagrin. That was, until Bill had revealed the charity they were raising money for. When she’d found out, Jules had quietly shelved her protests and spent her energy on fundraising, instead. They’d already raised a very reasonable £1300, which still made Jules emotional to think about. 

“I’m going to kill Bill,” Jules muttered, wondering how she was going to find a dress at such short-notice. “She’s the one who started this.”

_“Just hear me out. We’ve talked about it as teams and the decision was unanimous. But it’s up to you, Jules. We want to do the right thing by you.”_

_At that point, Bill had pulled out her phone and shown Jules the fundraising page, which she’d not yet published. Jules scanned it quickly, eyes dancing over the text and landing on a logo she recognised instantly: Help for Heroes, a charity for wounded veterans._

_“What do you think?”_

_Jules was deeply touched by the gesture, which she hadn’t expected._

_“Yeah,” she’d replied, voice coarse with emotion._

_And then Bill had pulled her into a hug and Jules had hugged her in return, for the first time since they’d been together. They’d both pulled back with watering eyes that neither were willing to acknowledge. It felt only slightly awkward; if anything, Bill’s gestures over recent weeks had shown that she was truly willing to move on and put the past behind them._

“Well I could kiss her,” Grace replied. “I haven’t had a laugh like that in a while.”

“I’ll let her know you said that,” Jules chuckled at Grace’s enthusiasm. “You’ve met her, actually.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, she works with Yaz as a police officer. They’re actually partners. And she came here, when...that day,” Jules amended. Although she had moved past the incident she wasn’t particularly keen to recall it. 

Grace sobered up a little at the allusion to what had happened. 

“In that case, I really do need to thank her. How are you doing, anyway? All ok?”

Jules nodded. She’d found it a little strange being back at work at first, mainly because her colleagues had been walking on eggshells around her; it helped that Yaz had dropped her off or picked her up whenever she could, which just happened to be most days. Jules had a feeling that she was missing out on sleep to do so, but Yaz would not be deterred.

The thought of Yaz made her grin like a fool. 

“And how are things with Yaz?” Grace smiled knowingly.

Jules felt her cheeks grow warm.

“Good.”

Staying tight-lipped about Yaz was hard; she wanted to burst at the seams and tell Grace everything, but Jules wasn’t used to discussing her love life so openly. Just the thought of Yaz made her feel warm inside and gave her a flutter, and she was liable to ramble if she started to talk about her. 

“I can tell. You have this glow about you. A bounce in your step.”

Jules caved at the first sign that Grace was truly interested to hear more.

“You could say things are going well, yeah. Really well, actually.” Jules sincerely hoped she hadn’t tempted fate but if anything, she and Yaz were closer than ever. “Hard to believe that nearly six months have passed.”

Grace gave her a maternal pat on the shoulder. 

“I’m glad to hear it, love. If anyone deserves some happiness, it’s you. Now, I’m going to be there to watch the game tomorrow, but from the sounds of it you’re not ready. Think you’ve got a bit of time to go shopping?”

Jules checked her watch and then remembered Yaz was working that evening. For the first time in days she was at a loose end, for the next few hours at least. It was time to bite the bullet and go dress shopping.

Going with Grace made the whole experience a lot more bearable than it might have otherwise been, Jules mused. She’d led them straight to the shops that had the most reasonable options, but Jules balked at spending more than £20 on an outfit she’d never wear again. 

In the end, they’d trawled through a couple of Sheffield’s charity shops and hit upon a winner within half an hour. 

“You’re going to disagree, but I think it suits you,” Grace said encouragingly. 

Jules plucked at the material of the dress, pulling it away from her side. Of all the dresses they’d seen, it was the most practical in length and the cut wasn’t entirely unflattering, even though she’d never admit that aloud; above everything, Jules loved that it was covered in a mini rainbow print and that alone made the purchase bearable. 

Mission finally accomplished, Jules bade farewell to Grace and decided to surprise Yaz with dinner. She let herself in with the key Yaz had given her and, not for the first time, felt like she’d returned home when she entered her flat. It was always a little strange to be there without Yaz but she felt at ease, and the fact that Yaz was going to be joining her shortly spurred her into action. 

She was still making dinner when Yaz did eventually return, a little later than she’d expected. 

Jules turned at the sound of the key in the lock, briefly glancing down at her sauce-spattered apron. She’d made a right mess of herself, as usual, and hurriedly tugged at the strings to hide the evidence. 

It landed on the floor just as Yaz made her way inside and Jules swiftly kicked it under the breakfast bar. Her reaction times had always been quick and she was grateful for them today. 

Thankfully Yaz didn’t seem to notice, apparently too busy tugging her key from the lock and then distracted by the sight of Jules at work in the kitchen. 

_Success._

Jules grinned at the smile that made its way across Yaz’s face when she saw her. It broadened when she realised that Yaz was still in her uniform. She was a big fan of it, and she was almost certain that Yaz knew precisely what the sight of that uniform did to her.

“Heya, Yaz.”

“Hey, baby. Good day?” Yaz crossed the room to kiss her and Jules sighed happily into it. It had been a long and tiring day but seeing Yaz always made things better.

“Sorry I’m late,” Yaz apologised, glancing into the pans Jules was standing over. “What’s cooking?”

“Hmm...something spicy,” Jules replied, reluctantly returning her attention to the hob. She smiled as she felt Yaz wrap her arms around her from behind and rest her chin on her shoulder. 

“This feels domestic.”

“Somehow I can’t picture you as a housewife,” Yaz laughed, her arms tightening slightly around Jules’s midsection. 

“It’s funny you should say that,” Jules replied, turning within the circle of Yaz’s arms. They drifted up to rest on Jules’s shoulders instead and Yaz played with the short hair at the nape of her neck, which never failed to drive Jules to distraction. 

“I now have the dress to match.”

“No way?” Yaz’s eyes widened in surprise. “Finally! I was worried I’d have to lend you one.”

“Yep, finally, thanks to Grace. But you’re not going to see it until tomorrow. No sneak previews.”

Yaz smirked as she leaned in for another kiss.

“I can’t wait.”

Jules could have sworn she felt Yaz moan into the kiss as she let her hands drift south. 

“Is that a baton in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?”

Yaz raised an eyebrow. 

“I thought you’d be more interested in these.”

She reached for her belt and retrieved her police-issue handcuffs. They weren’t the kind that Jules had ever imagined using but the thought of Yaz restraining her was a bit of a turn on. That was a surprise. 

And apparently she made a sound that completely gave the game away because Yaz seemed delighted by her non-verbal response.

“Really?” Yaz grinned. “I was only joking, but I can do some research. These aren’t exactly comfortable.” 

She put them back on her utility belt in a move that was so quick that Jules found herself distracted by just how efficiently Yaz could handle her equipment. It shouldn’t have been surprising but seeing it first hand was...something.

“You sound like you know first-hand,” she uttered, suddenly dry-mouthed.

“Well, I’m usually the one with the key.”

Jules nearly choked on air. 

“Is that something you’d be interested in?” Yaz asked.

It wasn’t clear whether the sudden heat in the room was from the hob behind them or the conversation but Jules noted that Yaz wasn’t entirely unaffected, either, judging by the change in her breathing.

She nodded. 

“Yep. Maybe. Yeah.”

Jules’s voice was higher than she’d ever heard and she cleared her throat but it was too late.

“You’re adorable when you’re flustered,” Yaz smiled, sliding her hand into the back pocket of Jules’s skinny jeans. 

“I’m not.”

Yaz simply quirked her eyebrow at her lame comeback. 

“I’m going to shower before dinner. How long have I got?”

Jules turned so abruptly that she nearly knocked the pan off the hob altogether. As it was, she just about managed to turn the gas down as low as it could go. 

“We’ve got 20 minutes.”

Yaz grasped her hand and led her to the bathroom. 

* * *

“Remind me why we’re doing this again?”

Jules was grumbling more than she should but she was apprehensive about Yaz’s reaction to the dress. She tugged on it, wishing it would sit differently on her, before abandoning all hope of being comfortable in it. 

“You know why, babe. It’ll be worth it. I promise.”

“Alright,” Jules huffed. “I’m ready.”

She bit her lip as Yaz turned, waiting expectantly for her response. She saw Yaz’s eyes widen in a way that seemed more alarming than flattering; the magnitude of her reaction was unexpected and Jules shuffled on her socked feet.

“I know, I look daft, but-”

“You look hot, babe,” Yaz interrupted. “Your legs...your arms. Don’t get me started on that neckline.” She ran a finger along it. 

“I hate it.” 

“If it helps, I can show you later how hot you look. I mean, I’ll have to get you out of it first,” Yaz drawled, hands now freely roaming, “but believe me, I’ll make it worth your while.”

Jules looked down at her legs. It didn’t make much sense, given that her shorts exposed just as much skin as the dress did. Yaz tried a different tack.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love how you normally dress. Those skinny jeans. Those shirts. I promise you, that dress will be coming off as soon as the game is done.”

That cheered Jules up a little but even better was when Yaz got into her own dress, a lethal little number that wasn’t entirely practical, but Jules had a feeling that Yaz was wearing it for her: it showcased her shoulders perfectly. 

“I think I might be getting you out of that even quicker,” she gaped, wondering just how quickly they’d be able to leave after the game. 

But Jules should have known that such a unique game wouldn’t warrant anything near an early departure. 

For a start, the crowd for the game was much, much larger than usual. She spotted Grace as her team started to warm up - as best they could in their dresses - and gave her a thumbs up, which Grace returned. Seeing a friendly face in the crowd gave her a confidence boost and she knew she’d be too distracted by the game itself once they actually started. 

That was, until Donna turned up in a wedding dress. Never one to do things by halves, she’d also found it in a charity shop and although she looked borderline homicidal running about in it with a face like thunder, it seemed to give their team a psychological advantage; nobody seemed to be too keen on crossing her path.

Jules ended up deliberately ripping her dress so that she could run faster. There’d been a sporadic shower earlier that morning so the ground was muddy and slightly treacherous, but it felt satisfying to get mud all over the dress. When she got into some particularly tricky tackles that sent her groundwards she took great pleasure in smearing mud all over it, although those tackles were few and far between; so much so that Jules started to wonder if Bill’s team were taking it easy on them. The whole event, in spite of the dresses, seemed like an attempt by the teams to give her a boost after the events of the past few months and Jules made a mental note to ask Bill about it later. They’d come a long way since the season had started - it was incredible, really, how much had happened since then - and Jules knew that was partly due to Yaz being a member of Bill’s team. It was nice to have some friendly competition and patch things up with Bill. 

To nobody’s surprise, Jules was woman of the match, but she insisted on sharing the honour with Graham and Ryan, who really had gone all out for the occasion; Ryan was in an eye-catching sequined dress and both he and Graham had hustled the crowd for donations at every opportunity, almost doubling their total. When she’d found out what they’d been up to, Jules had pulled them both into a hug and not let go for so long that Graham finally told her that Grace would get jealous. 

“So, Jules. Now that we’ve finally got you into a dress, ever think you’d wear one of these?” Donna asked, pointing to her attire. They were down their favourite old man pub for a post-match drink or three, still in their dresses and banished to the beer garden so that Mickey wouldn’t have to clean up the mud they’d leave inside. 

For her part, Donna didn’t seem to notice the odd looks she was getting from the other punters. Either that, or she simply didn’t care. Now a couple of pints in herself, Jules realised she needed to be more like Donna. She just wasn’t certain about the wedding dress idea. 

But ignoring the thought of a dress, Jules wasn’t as immediately averse to the idea of marriage as she assumed she would be. She glanced over at Yaz, who was talking to Clara and Martha and looking carefree and relaxed, even though she was also covered in mud. Jules already missed her company.

“Earth to Jules,” Donna drawled, almost spilling her pint over herself as she tried to get Jules’s attention. 

“Oi. I was just thinking,” Jules grumbled, embarrassed that she’d been caught staring. Again. At least this time she could genuinely admire Yaz from afar and not have to try and hide it as much as she’d used to.

“I know, I could see the steam coming out of your ears.”

“For that, I'm not giving you an answer.” 

“And for that, I'm going to get you another pint and see if that'll loosen your lips.”

Donna eased herself off the picnic bench, steadying herself on Jules’s shoulder before she scooped up her dress and made her way over to the outside bar. Jules shook her head as she pictured Donna Noble running around the pitch in a wedding dress. She had no idea how she’d managed to stay upright and she knew the images would stay with her for a long time to come.

Jules picked up her glass and drained the end of her pint. 

Would she want to marry someone? She'd never considered herself to be the marrying type, or someone who'd want to commit to something for the rest of her life. She tried a different question: would she want to marry Yaz? 

"Jules? You alright?"

The sound of Yaz’s voice, when she was just thinking about her, was startling. For a brief second, Jules worried that she’d overheard her thoughts. She knew that wasn’t possible but it still couldn’t prevent her initial reaction of panic.

Luckily, Yaz didn’t seem to notice because she was preoccupied eyeing up the empty pint glasses behind her. 

“Donna isn't taking it easy on you, is she?” she laughed, tucking some of Jules’s hair behind her ear in a gesture that was so affectionate Jules was certain she’d melt.

Then Jules thought of Donna’s line of questioning, which she’d no doubt resume upon her return. 

_No she really isn't taking it easy on me._

“I can hack it,” she boasted, straightening up in a show of machismo. But the dress made that trickier to pull off and Yaz giggled. 

“Try telling that to the slur in your voice.”

Jules frowned when she realised that Yaz was right. The beer had gone straight to her head and she cursed Donna for getting her so blitzed. It was an occupational hazard of post-match drinks with her vice captain. 

Yaz sat next to her on the bench just as Donna started to make her way back with two more pint glasses. Jules knew which option she preferred. 

“Can we go home? I want to get out of this awful thing.”

Yaz nodded and helped Jules to her feet.

“Don’t tell me I’m going to have to find another willing victim,” Donna sighed, but there was no venom in it. “Yaz, you look stunning in that dress. Although I’m sure Jules has already told you,” she winked dramatically.

“Loads,” Jules enthused, draping her arm across Yaz’s shoulders. “But now I’m gonna take it-”

“Don’t say it,” Yaz warned, clamping her hand over Jules’s mouth before she could complete the sentence.

“Sounds like you’re going to have your hands full, Yaz,” Donna sympathised. “But I know I’m leaving her in safe hands.”

“Always,” Yaz affirmed. 

Jules didn’t really remember the journey home, other than that she fell asleep in the passenger seat; the next thing she knew, Yaz was nudging her awake outside her flat. 

“Big day, huh?”

“Big day,” Jules mumbled, suddenly exhausted. The stress the dress had caused her, the incredible amount of money they’d raised for charity, and the sheer volume of alcohol had hit hard. 

“Come on, let's get you to bed.”

“Yasmin Khan, you speak my language.”

“Sorry to disappoint but right now I think you just need some sleep,” Yaz laughed.

Jules started to protest but she was cut off by a yawn and Yaz guided her inside. 

“Need to shower though,” she pointed out. Dried mud was starting to flake off her legs and she admired the trail she’d left from the front door to the kitchen, where they were currently standing. 

“Well,” Yaz sighed, “I did tell you I’d get you out of this dress, and I keep my promises.”

Jules made a concerted effort not to wobble as Yaz dealt with the zipper. That was easy; harder was remaining still when she felt Yaz’s hands skimming over her bare shoulders, trailing across her collarbones, then down her bare arms. _Maybe dresses did have an upside_. 

Yaz started to shimmy the dress down to the kitchen floor but Jules felt it tug on some skin over her hip and quietly hissed in pain. 

“Can you check something for me?” 

“What’s up?” 

“I think someone caught the back of my hip on one of those tackles.” 

Jules busied herself with her sports bra as Yaz moved behind her to inspect the damage. 

“Yep. That’s gonna be nice and purple tomorrow,” Yaz made a sympathetic sound and Jules nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt her press a kiss to the bruise. 

“Although really, I think you just wanted to show me your arse.” 

“I thought you liked my arse.”

“I really do.” As if to prove her point, Yaz tugged her underwear down, kissing the skin that was revealed. 

Jules wobbled fully at that.

“Right, shower time,” Yaz straightened up and pointed Jules in the direction of the bathroom, then scooped up her muddy clothes for the washing machine. 

“Spoilsport.”

Thankfully it didn’t take long for Yaz to join her and Jules sighed happily as warm hands wrapped around her hips. 

“Much better,” she grinned, “although that dress did look good on you, Yaz. Can I get you out of it another time?”

Yaz nodded and ducked her head under the spray, then reached for the soap. Jules mused as she watched her.

“Is that where it comes from, the word undress - a state of not being in a dress?” 

“How many pints did you have again?” 

Jules knew she was a little buzzed but really, she was just happy. It was almost like being drunk, but on endorphins rather than alcohol. She guided Yaz closer, delighting in the feel of their bodies pressed together under the hot water. It really had been a good day, despite the dresses.

“Trust me, that’s not the strangest thing I’ve thought of today,” she hummed as Yaz lathered up some soap and started to help her get clean. 

“Do I want to know?”

Jules thought of the conversation she’d had with Donna and scrambled for something else to talk about. She was clearly speaking without thinking and telling Yaz about that conversation wasn’t something she was quite ready to do just yet.

“Most Victorian boys wore dresses until they were four or five years old. Back in those days, it seems nobody could escape them,” Jules pulled a face at the thought. “And dresses originally didn’t have pockets because women weren’t meant to have the freedom to own and carry their things in private. Can you imagine a life without pockets?”

Yaz tilted her head. 

“You’re right. That really wasn’t the oddest thing you thought of today. Good thing you don’t _have_ to wear a dress now, hey?”

“Very,” Jules agreed. “Unless...you’d like me to?” she hazarded, recalling Yaz’s reaction to the item of clothing.

But Yaz shook her head. “I meant what I said. I love you just the way you are, no matter what you’re wearing. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Jules breathed a sigh of relief, and Yaz kissed her cheek. 

“You’re something else, Jules. Not only are you the smartest, most incredible woman I’ve ever met, you never fail to surprise me. Please never stop.”

And then and there, Jules resolved to give Yasmin Khan anything she asked of her. 


	44. World Cup (M)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little bit smutty at the end (nothing too explicit) but you can basically end at the break if that's not your cup of tea! :)

It was Jules’s favourite time of year. Technically speaking it was her favourite time of every fourth year, since the Women’s World Cup was sadly not an annual event, although that was probably a blessing in disguise given that she watched every game she could down the pub with her team-mates. 

This year, both her and Bill’s teams had made a collective decision to take up residence in Mickey’s pub, since he was one of the few publicans in Sheffield who would agree to show every game. He also continued to give them a discount, which seemed only fair given how much time and money they spent in his pub. 

That afternoon, both teams had reconvened after an early training session and were holed up in their usual corner, ready to watch Australia play Brazil. Jules and Yaz had found a spot at the back, away from prying eyes but with enough of a view of the screen that Jules could keep an eye on proceedings; for the first time ever, her full attention wasn’t actually on the game.

Yaz was wearing shorts and that was more than enough reason for her gaze to be wandering. It was late June but the heatwave was still unusual; their game had ended with the threat of ice baths that had turned into cold showers and now, cold pints. Thankfully, Mickey had made an effort to clean up a little or the stale smell of beer would have been borderline unbearable in the sticky heat.

Even better, Yaz smelled delicious. Jules was in a world of her own, nose nudging the ticklish spot under Yaz’s ear as she skimmed her palm over her thigh and inhaled the scent of her skin. 

“I know you’re not a huge fan of these shorts, but I am,” Jules murmured. She was in shorts herself and hadn’t contemplated wearing anything else. It was far too hot to wear jeans and when Yaz had indicated that she was going to, Jules had just about managed to convince her that shorts would be a lot more comfortable. But she knew that Yaz was still self-conscious about the scar on her leg and wanted to do what she could to reassure her. 

“Keep talking,” Yaz smiled, eyes fixed on the projector screen that was taking up the entirety of one of the walls. Jules saw a challenge in her subtle smirk and was delighted by the intake of breath she prompted when she leaned in to speak into Yaz’s ear. Yaz might pretend not to be affected by what she was doing, but Jules knew all of her tells.

“Your legs are one of my favourite things about you. They're strong, and they feel good under my hands. Plus they keep my ears warm.”

“Jules!” Yaz gasped, facade crumbling as she burst into surprised laughter. 

“What?” Jules pulled the most innocent face she could manage and took a sip of her pint. Winding Yaz up was one of her new favourite hobbies.

There was a throw-in on screen and Jules hesitated to see the outcome before she turned her attention back to Yaz, draping an arm casually over her shoulder. It was too hot to sit as closely as she’d have liked but then again, they were also in public and she’d never hear the end of it if she encouraged Yaz to actually sit on her lap as she wished she would. A casual gesture would have to do until she could get Yaz alone, later. Judging by the way Yaz was fidgeting, she was also having a hard time keeping her hands to herself.

“So. Favourite player?” Yaz asked. “Female one, anyway.”

“Lucy Bronze,” Jules replied without hesitation.

Yaz’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. 

“I thought you’d have said Ellen White.”

“I have a thing for defenders,” Jules shrugged.

“Charmer. I don’t think I can compete with Lucy Bronze, though,” Yaz sighed jokingly. But Jules could sense she was being a little hard on herself and reached for her chin with her free hand, gently turning her head towards her.

“Yasmin Khan, you have nothing to worry about,” she emphasised, punctuating the sentiment with a kiss. It was brief but when she pulled back to see that Yaz’s eyes were still closed and she wore a dopey expression, she bit back a smile. 

“How about you?” she prompted after a few moments. Yaz seemed to have forgotten about the conversation they were having.

“Siobhan Chamberlain. I used to want to be her when I grew up. I'm too short for goal, though.”

“You're the perfect size for defence. And if you'd been in goal, I think you'd not have liked me much at all.”

Yaz hid her embarrassment by taking a sip of her drink. 

“Alright, alright. Next time we're at training we're doing penalties. Let's see who can save the most goals,” she eventually replied. “And I think you’ll find I still like you either way.”

There was a loud cheer; they’d missed Australia scoring just before half time. Jules realised they really weren’t paying attention to the game, but it would be unheard of to leave halfway through. Instead, she spied the pool table, unoccupied in the corner of the room. There was movement as several of their friends made their way to the bar but Jules nodded her head in the other direction. 

“I think that pool table has our names on it. What do you say?”

“I can’t play,” Yaz admitted.

“I’ll teach you.”

“Is there literally nothing you can’t do?”

Jules got to her feet and frowned as she genuinely contemplated the question. 

“It was hypothetical,” Yaz rolled her eyes as she gave her a gentle shove in the direction of the table, warily eyeing up the cues as Jules started to chalk them up. 

Jules blew the blue dust off but it lingered on her fingers, which had started to sweat from both the heat and from being so close to Yaz.

“You really never played this before, huh?” she asked, handing Yaz a cue and then absently wiping her hands on her shorts. She really didn’t want to get blue chalk all over Yaz’s nice white vest-top, and it would be only a matter of time until she did. She was grateful for the opportunity to keep her hands busy, even if only temporarily.

“Really,” Yaz nodded. “You going to show me what I’ve been missing out on?”

Jules stepped into Yaz’s space, cues momentarily forgotten. 

“Seems only fair since you’ve been doing that for me.”

Yaz tilted her head as she considered her response to the unexpected compliment. Jules brushed some of her hair away from her neck, admiring the gentle slope of it. Suddenly the room felt very warm. 

“Just when I think you’re going to be obnoxious you come out with something like that,” Yaz beamed, standing up slightly on her toes to drop a kiss on Jules’s lips. “It’s maddening.”

“Just wait until I teach you how to play pool. I’m going to rock your world.”

“You say that like you don’t already. I’m still not quite over what you did the other night.”

Jules groaned at the visual. She wasn’t sure quite how it had happened but it was par for the course; the tension between them was incredibly easy to ratchet up and when Yaz bit her lip like  _ that _ …

“You know, for the first time in my life I regret coming to watch a game.” Jules abruptly broke the rack and barely paid attention to where the balls scattered to; she was amazed she’d even managed to hit the cue ball to begin with. Although she was normally pretty good at pool, especially after a couple of pints, Yaz was incredibly distracting. Jules straightened and wiped the sweat from her brow with a sigh, wondering how long she’d last before she wilted.

Yaz inspected the table, clearly uncertain where to start until Jules pointed out the best ball to hit.

“Alright, then. Show me how it’s done.” 

It was then that Jules realised she’d made a mistake, because teaching Yaz how to play pool was wonderfully hands-on, and right now she needed to keep her hands off or she’d be incredibly uncomfortable for the entire second half. 

But when she saw how awkwardly Yaz was standing, Jules knew she’d have to get more involved if she was to stand a chance of hitting anything. 

“You need to separate your legs a little more,” she suggested, trying to focus on Yaz’s posture from a distance. 

“How do you mean?” Yaz replied guilelessly, not moving, and Jules realised what she was up to. She abandoned any hope of being gentlemanly and stepped behind Yaz, thrilled by the feel of her pressed up so close.

“Like so,” she murmured, sliding a leg between Yaz’s knees and nudging them apart. The heat between them was almost volcanic where the skin of their bare legs touched. 

“Can you help me with the stick?” Yaz asked, pushing backwards into Jules’s crotch. It seemed innocent enough but Jules knew better, especially when she felt Yaz grind into her deliberately. The seam of her shorts rubbed up against her and she cursed as Yaz nestled into place.

“Shit. Yes.” 

Jules felt Yaz’s silent laughter as she leaned over, guiding her arms into position. Not an inch of space was left between them.

“You’re going to be the death of me, you know,” Jules murmured as she manoeuvred them. There wasn’t much difference in height between them and it was proving increasingly difficult not to pin Yaz to the table. 

“Not for a while yet,” Yaz replied. “But maybe we can try this position again a little later?”

Jules nodded vigorously at the prospect and then realised Yaz wouldn’t be able to see. 

“Yes. Definitely. Absolutely. One hundred percent.”

“You might have to step back so I can actually take the shot though, babe.”

Jules realised she was still basically draped over Yaz’s back and she awkwardly straightened up, breathing a sigh of relief as she removed herself from the heat of Yaz’s body. She was sweating and wondering if she could have done with an ice bath, after all.

“Just...hit it hard,” she suggested lamely, entranced by the way Yaz was bending over the table. Her arms looked more toned than she’d ever realised and Jules did a double take when she saw them.

Yaz did as she suggested, hitting the ball with as much force as she could muster, and pocketed the white with a sigh.

“This is a disaster,” she groaned, smiling despite herself. 

“No, it’s not. You just need a little practice. Watch me,” Jules insisted, determined to at least make a stab of playing a game. The heat was just ramping things up, that was all. She could get through one game before she’d jump Yaz’s bones.

But she realised that even an ice bath couldn’t save her when Yaz leaned over the table to watch her take her shot, cleavage on display. 

“That’s cheating,” Jules grumbled, ignoring Yaz’s grin. She straightened with a huff, wiping her forehead again with the back of her hand. There was no way she could play properly when Yaz was playing that dirty.

“How about I get you a cold drink?” Yaz offered sympathetically. “You take your shot without distraction. I promise I’ll be good.”

Jules nodded, relieved for a reprieve to collect herself. It was very hard to play it cool when her girlfriend was ramping the temperature up by several degrees. “Yes, please.”

Only once Yaz had gone did she return to the table, trying to figure out which ball to aim for. 

Moments later she could sense someone joining her at the table, but Jules refused to take her eye off the ball. 

“Nice try, but it’s not going to work this time,” she grinned, determined to at least try and hit the ball before Yaz sidetracked her. “But if you need cash, my wallet’s in my back pocket.”

That had to be why Yaz had returned so fast, she reasoned. Judging by the raucous laughter coming from the bar area, the queue was still a few people deep and there was no way she’d have been served already.

“That’s not a very safe place to keep it now, is it?”

Jules struck the ball as the woman spoke and she straightened in shock as she recognised the voice. Despite the heat of the room, her blood instantly ran cold when she realised who had joined her at the table.

“You. What are you doing here?”

Jules could feel her grip on the cue tightening hard enough that she wondered if she could snap it. 

“Thought I’d come and check in. It’s been a while,” Missy practically purred, and Jules clenched her jaw. 

“Not nearly long enough, Missy.”

A whistle cut through the atmosphere; Jules realised the game had started again, and wondered if anyone had even noticed that Missy was there. 

“How did you know I’d be here?”

“Oh, it’s not that difficult to figure out, really…you’re quite easy to find, if I really want to.”

Jules stiffened. She didn’t like the idea of Missy knowing where she was, primarily because that was often where Yaz was, too. And she didn’t want Missy to go anywhere near Yaz.

“How are things with Yaz?”

Hearing Missy say her name made Jules tense even more but then a comforting arm wrapped around her waist and there was a warm body at her side. She didn’t even need to look to know who it was. 

“Better than ever,” Yaz replied. Her tone was defiant but Jules could hear steel in it that suggested she was just as unhappy to see Missy. “You might want to reconsider what you're doing here before I do something I'll regret.”

Jules turned to see Yaz bearing an expression she’d never seen before. She was angry, that much was obvious, but it was a coolly suppressed kind of anger that could boil over at any minute. Jules could even see the tension in her body and she realised she might need to intervene before Yaz acted rashly.

“Yaz, think about your career,” she urged. Although Yaz had admirable self-restraint, Missy tended to bring out the worst in people. Jules knew that for a fact. The last thing she wanted was for Yaz to jeopardise her job by getting into a fight in a pub.

“Fuck my career.” 

“I mean that's really hot, but no.” Jules made a decision. She put herself between Yaz and Missy, looking Yaz in the eye. 

“Don't you turn your back on me, Jules. It's not that simple,” Missy’s voice was sharp.

“It really is,” Jules spat back over her shoulder, before returning her full attention to Yaz. It was risky to take her eye off Missy, but Yaz was her priority. She reached for her arms, holding them as she tried to keep her focus.

“Yaz, come on. She's not worth it. You're better than this. You are. You have to be.” 

Jules saw Yaz’s eyes widen and realised too late that she’d made a mistake in turning her back. 

"Watch out!" Yaz shouted in alarm, reaching for Jules to pull her away. 

But there was the sound of a scuffle, a thud, and a shocked gasp from behind her. Jules whipped around, arms up and ready to defend herself, only to see Donna shaking her hand and Missy on the floor, holding her cheek. 

Jules would have laughed at Missy’s expression if the situation had been remotely funny but as it was, Donna was swearing like a sailor and there was an awkward silence in the pub; the only sound came from the game, but Jules realised that all attention was now on them. 

Then, as if a goal had just been scored, a loud cheer went up throughout the entire room. 

“You've hurt my friend for the last time,” Donna swore again, flexing her fingers. “Fucking hell, remind me never to do that again.”

“Jesus, Noble,” Jules grimaced, “I should have known you’d pack a hell of a punch.”

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” Donna admitted, and then Martha came running over with a zip-lock bag full of ice. 

Satisfied that Donna was being looked after, Jules turned back to Missy. Although she might have been floored, a cornered animal was even more dangerous and Jules didn’t want Yaz getting hurt. 

“I'm calling the police,” Missy lurched precariously to her feet and grinned as she wiped the blood from her lip. She looked utterly maniacal and Jules subconsciously held out her arms to make herself look bigger and shield Yaz. Several of the others had joined them, forming a ragtag semicircle that helped put Jules at ease, especially when she saw Bill stepping in. Surely Missy wouldn’t try anything with such a large audience. 

“I don't think that's a good idea,” Bill laughed, but it was a cynical sound. “Stop wasting everyone's time. You've caused enough damage, don't you think? I'm surprised that,” she gestured to Missy’s busted lip, “hasn't happened before now. And if I so much as hear another word about you, you'll wish you'd never come back. Leave my mates alone.”

The semicircle drew closer in and the atmosphere shifted from one of mild threat to one of security. Jules saw the moment that Missy realised she was truly outnumbered. Her smirk turned into a sneer and she glared at Jules and Yaz, teeth crimson and hideous. 

“You haven't seen the last of me.”

“We have, actually. You’re barred,” Mickey called from the bar. 

“Yeah. Clear off,” Yaz chipped in, and Jules could feel her practically bouncing on her heels behind her. 

Only once Missy had disappeared from view, hounded out of the pub and apparently down the road by several of their friends, did Jules feel herself relax. The atmosphere in the room had been stifling before but now it was oppressively warm. 

“Even if she does come back, we've got you, Jules. Always. We're your mates. Your fam.” Bill clapped her on the back and Jules was touched by the sentiment. 

“Really?”

“Of course you are. A few months ago, things might have been different but I think we’re past that. Don’t you?”

“Yeah. I think we are,” Jules grinned but it was watery. In truth she was more than a little shaken that Missy had shown up out of the blue, but all she’d been able to think about was keeping Yaz safe. 

“Now go and find your girl,” Bill suggested. 

Jules turned, startled to realise that Yaz was nowhere to be seen. She’d somehow lost track of her in the aftermath and a slight panic flared to life in her chest.

“Where-”

“Outside,” Bill tipped her head and Jules muttered her thanks, desperate to find her. 

Thankfully, Yaz hadn’t gone far; she was pacing just outside the doors, apparently trying to let off some steam. 

“Yaz? You alright?”

It took Yaz a moment to realise she was there but when she finally registered Jules’s presence she immediately ground to a halt, hands clenched into fists. 

“That awful woman...I'm full of adrenaline and all sorts of things that I don't know what to do with.”

Jules knew exactly what she meant because she felt it, too. Her heart was still racing. 

“Hey, come here. Try and take some deep breaths. Relax.”

“I didn’t want her anywhere near you,” Yaz huffed, trying and failing to calm herself. “And there she was when I turned around. It was my worst nightmare.”

“Funny, I didn’t want her anywhere near you, either,” Jules joked. She moved her hands to Yaz’s waist. “Come on. Deep breaths for me.”

She watched and waited as Yaz settled. The sun was still burning hot and after a few minutes she moved them into the shade of the car park, out of view. Judging by the sounds from inside, their friends had resumed watching the game as if nothing had happened. She wondered how Donna was doing but knew she was in good hands with Martha. Once again, Jules was touched by how quickly and easily her friends had come to her aid. 

“God. Sorry,” Yaz sighed, finally settled. She took a shuddering breath and then another and placed her hands on Jules’s waist, mirroring her, so that they were anchoring one another. 

“No need to apologise, Yaz. It was pretty hot, to be honest.”

It really was; seeing Yaz become protective was definitely something of a turn on, Jules had discovered.

“Yeah, well, I blame the heat. It’s making me feel funny.”

“Really?” Jules frowned. She scrutinised Yaz’s face, worried she was getting overheated. 

“In a good way,” Yaz amended when she saw Jules’s concerned look. “I just want to feel your hands on me. I have done all day. Playing pool was torture.”

“Did you want to feel them anywhere in particular?” Jules asked, teasing, as she started to feel Yaz up against the wall. Now that the immediate threat was gone, the heat and adrenaline was stoking their earlier flirtation back to life with a vengeance. Both of them knew there was only one way to deal with the excess energy running through their veins.

“I think you know.”

Yaz finally pulled her into a kiss, their first since that morning, and it was so full of pent up emotion that Jules struggled to tear herself away to speak. 

“You wanna- mph!”

Yaz pulled her back in again, sliding her hands into the back pockets of Jules’s shorts and squeezing roughly. 

“Fuck,” Jules panted as she pulled away, rapidly overheating. “We need to go.”

“Yep.”

* * *

“You know the other good thing about shorts?” Jules asked as she tugged Yaz’s off. “They’re a lot easier to remove than jeans.”

“Good, cos that means yours can come off, too.”

Before Jules realised what was happening, Yaz had physically flipped her onto the mattress, taking her by complete surprise. She hovered above Jules, a question in her eyes, and they regarded one another, breathing hard. 

Yaz had never done that before and she seemed a little apprehensive now that she’d done it, but something in her eye suggested that Jules would be foolish not to explore it. She stared at Yaz’s arms, which were tensing as they bore her weight. Had they always been that muscular? Seeing Yaz take control in that moment was exactly what Jules needed. She nodded, and contented herself with fisting her hands in the sheets as Yaz removed her shorts. 

There wasn’t much time for polite conversation or even foreplay, but none was needed. Yaz knew just what to do to get her off and within minutes Jules was writhing on the sheets, still half-dressed and feeling like she’d been hit by a freight train.

She could hear Yaz as she ate her out but she could hear herself even more clearly, losing her inhibitions as Yaz absolutely destroyed her from the inside out. Before long her climax was burning through every single nerve ending, every cell, and it burned so bright and fast that it felt wild and explosive, out of her control and completely within Yaz’s power. 

“Wow,” Jules panted, desperately trying to catch her breath. She was sweating and shivering, confused by all the signals her body was sending her. Was she hot or cold? She didn’t even know if she was on the same plane of existence anymore. “Where did that come from?”

“I’m not sure,” Yaz breathed, collapsing onto the pillows beside her. “But as soon as I thought of it…”

“Hey, I’m not complaining. At all. I might just need a second.”

Yaz smirked and leaned over to kiss her. Jules took the opportunity to feel her arms again as she tasted herself on Yaz’s lips. The muscles under her hands definitely felt more firm than they used to.

“Have you been working out?”

“I hit the gym a bit more, yeah. Good way to vent stress,” Yaz replied nonchalantly, but she wouldn’t meet Jules’s eye.

“You're stressed?” Jules felt guilty. Yaz had been so focused on her. “Talk to me.”

Yaz sighed. 

“Work has been kind of full-on and with probation ending, the pressure is huge. I want to do well. And this shit with Missy, and what happened to you...I want to be someone you can rely on, Jules. Someone who will look after you.”

Jules’s first response was that she didn’t need looking after but she sensed that what Yaz was driving at wasn’t necessarily about her: it was about what Yaz wanted to do for her. And really, it felt so good that Yaz wanted to do that in the first place that Jules realised she didn’t have a point to make in return. 

But she knew that this protective urge had come about because of the incident with Missy. Not just the one from that afternoon, but the one that had precipitated a disastrous argument that almost led to them breaking up.

“Is this about what happened?” Jules was tentative. She didn’t really want to broach the subject at that moment but she didn’t want Yaz to dwell on it, either.

“No.”

But Jules could tell that she wasn’t being entirely truthful. 

“Yaz, you don't need to worry.”

“But I do, Jules. Don’t you get it?” Yaz finally met her eye. “I love you, Jules. I never want you to be hurt. And least of all by me.”

Once again Jules had a response on the tip of her tongue but she bit it. She was about to say that Yaz could never hurt her, but she knew that wasn’t true. Of all the people she knew, Yaz had the power to hurt her the most. And not because Yaz would want to, but because she loved Yaz so much that she’d freely opened herself up to it. But Jules wouldn’t have it any other way. And right now, she wanted to put Yaz's mind at ease, and her own. They were on steady footing and Jules wanted to make sure that all their time spent together was as good as she could make it, because one day it might not be. She couldn’t guarantee anything, but the one thing she could do was show Yaz how much she meant to her. That was well within her power.

“You know, there are ways I can help you with stress, too,” Jules finally replied, reaching for Yaz’s hand and linking their fingers together. She might not be able to remove Yaz’s source of stress entirely, but she could at least take her mind off it. “You don’t have to go it alone.”

“I know,” Yaz murmured. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” Jules affirmed, and she kissed her to prove it. “And...right now...I have somewhere even better to be.”

Jules moved her way down the bed but she made sure not to let go of Yaz’s hand.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was teasing a couple of folks on twitter that a character was going to make a reappearance - this isn’t the character I was talking about (they’ll be coming back soon, though!). Add pool to the list of sports I know nothing about, btw.
> 
> As always you can find me on twitter @_mag_lex.
> 
> I’m going to complete this fic on here since it’s so far along but all of my new fics are on my own site: maglexfic.wordpress.com. I’ve posted two new ones in the past couple of weeks so make sure to subscribe there if you want to keep up to date with my new fics! :) I have about 36 ideas left to write about and no doubt I’ll be adding more when my brain comes up with them at 2am.


	45. Surprise (II)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve split this one in two! It got a bit long and the next chapter is E-rated; I wanted to end this year on a chapter that hopefully anyone can read. 
> 
> Writing this story has got me through a hell of a lot this shitty year and I’m really happy that I can continue to share it. I’ve not really been able to read or write anything else without difficulty, so thanks again to everyone still reading and especially to those who actually leave a comment on every chapter, you guys are amazing. Can I borrow some of your stamina, please? :) And thank you for letting me know if you've enjoyed it too, that honestly keeps me going just as much.
> 
> Happy New Year when it comes! I hope 2021 does us all a favour and improves on 2020.

The rest of the summer passed in a pleasant, hazy blur. For once, the weather was actually nice, which meant that Jules could enjoy several picnic dates with Yaz, whiling away many idle hours until the sun set late in the evening as they ate punnet after punnet of sweet strawberries. They watched Jurassic Park in an open-air cinema, borrowed Wilf’s telescope again on a clear evening and looked at the stars, and even tried swimming in a local reservoir, which was a lot colder than Jules had expected. She wasn’t sure if Yaz had quite forgiven her for that suggestion yet, but she was certain her attempts at warming her up afterwards went some way to appeasing her. That, and she’d seen how Yaz had reacted to the sight of her bikini. Jules made a mental note to find another occasion to wear that in the near future.

Yaz was finally nearly at the end of her probation, which meant she had to study for her final exams, so Jules made sure that she was eating and sleeping enough; her fitness exams were less of a concern given that she spent most of her free time either chasing a football around a pitch or with Jules, who gave her an entirely different kind of workout a lot of the time. 

Jules’s own workload had decreased because apparently the sun had something of a soporific effect. There were far fewer accidents than usual, which was something of a blessing, so she took the chance to catch up on her reading. She even put her name down for an emergency medicine conference due to take place at the beginning of the next year, tentatively starting to think about the future: her future, and Yaz’s future, and their future together. She’d already been ruminating on things for a while, cautious to not rush and to keep things at a pace that worked for them both, but whenever she used Yaz’s key to get into her flat she was reminded that Yaz was probably thinking along the same lines; that they’d eventually, truly, share a home together. 

Before long, Jules was hoping to bring the topic of their future up in conversation, because it was a discussion they did eventually need to have. But for now, they had enough on their plates and the luxury of time, and there was no pressing need to push things forward. It was immensely satisfying just to live life and take each day as it came. Summer seemed to never end and Jules wasn’t ready for it to end, either, because the shift in seasons and the shorter days were a reminder of time passing in a way that was completely out of her control. She would happily have lived in that summer with Yaz forever.

But that particular weekend, they had something more straightforward to consider. Yaz had won their World Cup sweepstake - unsurprising, since she’d drawn the USA - and had managed to convince Jules to attend a house party at Bill’s to celebrate the end of the competition. Jules had been none the wiser as to her true intentions and had, in fact, been so preoccupied by the thought of the game that she was still chatting to Yaz about Rapinoe’s penalty and the merits of video assistant referee when they opened Bill’s front door. 

“That’s weird. Why are the lights off? Has Bill not paid her bills?” Jules joked, confused, just as the overhead light illuminated and utter chaos ensued. 

Within seconds, several people emerged from hiding spots behind the furniture, shouting loudly with apparent glee that they’d caught Jules by surprise and setting off party poppers. She’d not even sensed that there were other people in the room, but now there were so many people there that it was almost alarming to be face-to-face with a room jam-packed full of her friends adorned in matching conical paper birthday hats.

“Surprise!”

“Gotcha!”

“Happy birthday, Jules!”

At the same time, several flashes went off as people captured the crucial moment with their phones. It was disorientating, especially after the quiet conversation that she’d just been having with Yaz, and Jules froze in place, heart thumping in her chest. Yaz gave her hand a reassuring squeeze when she realised the sudden commotion had spooked her a little. 

“Fucking hell, you lot are going to give me a heart attack one of these days,” Jules laughed nervously as she placed her hand over her racing heart to try and calm it. 

“Payback for those drills last weekend,” Donna retorted, apparently delighted that their surprise had truly been unexpected. 

A few of their friends approached to wish her a happy birthday and someone pressed a cold beer bottle into her sweaty palm just as she returned from the stratosphere and back to Earth. Bill started playing some music over the speakers and Jules was relieved to hear she’d at least started with her favourite band, because she suspected there would be some more questionable choices as the evening wore on. The Wombats never failed to put a smile on her face and as she recognised the song, Jules relaxed.

Apart from the shaky start, Jules had a whale of a time at her party. She’d never been surprised for her birthday before and had no idea how Yaz had even found out when it was because most of the time she didn’t even think about it herself, but once she grew accustomed to the novelty of actually celebrating it, Jules realised she was having a wonderful time. And despite the best efforts of her friends, she stayed as sober as she could because Yaz had hinted early on in the evening that the party was only step one of her plan to celebrate that night. 

Jules somewhat regretted her decision to remain sober when a karaoke machine came out, but when Clara suggested a keepy-uppy challenge with balloons, Jules took great pleasure in destroying the competition. Her competitors were falling all over the place, fuelled by Martha’s lethal rum punch, which made things a lot easier; her reward was the unveiling of her birthday cake, emblazoned with “fuck, you’re old” in garish yellow frosting.

A glance at Donna confirmed her suspicions that she was behind the design but also that it was a joke. When Yaz and Bill came out with another cake, iced with a miniature version of her in her kit and the number of goals she’d scored that season, she took great pleasure in giving Donna the slice with her football shorts on it. 

“Kiss my arse, Noble.”

“I think Yaz does plenty of that already,” Donna replied cheekily, scarpering when Jules made as if to throw her slice of cake at her in retaliation. 

“Oi, careful!” Bill cautioned. “This carpet’s already a state.”

Jules grimaced as she looked at the mess they’d all made: there were more than a couple of spilled drinks and at some point, someone had knocked over a bowl of nachos that were now one with the carpet. 

“Sorry, mate. What were you thinking, inviting this bunch of animals over?” Jules was finding it more and more easy to talk to Bill and their new-found friendship was one of the best presents she could have asked for. 

“There was no way we were keeping this small. First time we’ve ever celebrated your birthday, innit? Got to make up for missed opportunities.”

“How did you even find out?” 

The mystery of how her birthday had been discovered had been on the back of her mind all evening. Jules didn’t make a habit of sharing it - it was yet another piece of herself she kept private. She was starting to wonder why she did that but it was something she’d always done, partly out of habit and partly to shield herself from disappointment. Perhaps it was a habit she’d need to break; recent events had shown her that leaving herself open to opportunity could actually yield very good things if she gave herself a chance. And Yaz was clearly keen to discover those parts of her that she kept hidden. She’d also done a very good job of keeping her plans secret. They all had, really, because they’d well and truly surprised her.

Bill tapped the side of her nose in a frustrating gesture that meant she wouldn’t freely divulge. “Let’s just say that Yaz and I put our detective skills to good use.”

Jules frowned as she considered all of the possibilities, but there was only one real explanation. 

“You asked Grace, didn’t you?”

Grace was the only person who was likely to know her birthday because she’d had to help fill in the paperwork after her assault at the hospital. Jules was relieved to note that she was right: Bill nodded. 

“Yep, we asked Grace. She’s a legend.”

“She’s pretty special,” Jules grinned. “Please tell me you didn’t invite her? I don’t think she’d survive the carnage.” She gestured at the mess surrounding them.

“She’s a sensible woman. She declined straight away.”

“Good. I’m pretty sure Graham would never forgive me if we led her astray. Actually, I’m pretty sure Graham would disown most of us if he saw what we got up to behind closed doors. He’s still not quite over that that night in the gay bar you insisted we have our social in,” Jules laughed as a conga line snaked around the living room. With her quick reflexes, she managed to save a half-empty bottle of wine on the table before Martha knocked it over with an over-enthusiastic wiggle of her hips.

“And this is why I told Yaz we weren’t doing it at hers, either,” Bill said, gratefully retrieving the bottle from Jules and putting on the nearest bookshelf, out of harm’s reach. “She’s way too neat for this and her flat is too nice. Besides, I think me and Amy are going to find a place of our own, soon. We’ve already got the first month’s rent saved, which is probably a good thing because I’m not sure how much of the deposit I’ll get back on this.”

Bill glanced at the carpet again, forlorn, but her expression didn’t last for long because the mention of Amy was clearly a pleasant distraction.

Jules took a sip of her beer as she scanned the room for Bill’s girlfriend. 

“Is she here?” she frowned, surprised when she couldn’t find her and feeling a little guilty that she hadn’t noticed her absence, despite the volume of people in the room. 

“Nah. Got some modelling gig, she’s down in London for a few days.”

Although Bill tried to pass it off as no big deal, Jules could clearly hear the pride in her tone. And to her chagrin, it dawned on Jules that she actually had no idea what Amy did outside of football. She hadn’t even thought to ask, partly because she and Bill had barely been talking, but now it was the sign of a bad friend.

“Yeah,” Bill drawled, a pleased grin spreading across her face as she realised she could show off her girlfriend’s achievements. “She found a half-decent agency a couple of months back. Now she’s raking it in.”

Once she got over her surprise - the evening was apparently full of them - Jules realised she was genuinely pleased for Bill. 

“Wow. You kept that one quiet, Bill. Shacking up with a model? Jammy git.”

Bill’s grin faded a little. “Yeah, well...you had a lot on your plate, you know?”

There was a pause as they both clearly thought about the same afternoon spent in the hospital. 

“We need to make some better memories together,” Jules suggested, keen to move on. “This is a pretty good one, though,” she said, gesturing to the room. The conga line was still going and getting even longer, despite the lack of space. “Thank you.”

“Any time, Jules. I’m glad you liked it.”

Jules felt a swell of something in her chest; genuine affection for Bill and for the rest of her friends for going out of their way to celebrate her birthday. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d made a conscious effort to mark the occasion, never mind actually celebrate it with people she liked.

“Yeah. It’s pretty ace. And from now on, by the way, I want to know everything that’s going on with you. Wait!” Jules held up her finger to stop Bill from speaking. “Not everything. I take that back.”

Bill chuckled as she clapped her on the back. “You’re safe for now, don’t worry. But only because I’m going to ask about you and Yaz, instead.”

“What about us?” Jules asked cautiously. This was still new territory for them and she had no idea where Bill was going to lead things.

“How are things going? After that whole thing went down, and Missy turning up at the pub the other week...you guys good? She keeps things pretty quiet at work. I don’t exactly push for info but she keeps her cards pretty close to her chest.”

Jules looked for and found Yaz almost instantly, enthusiastically taking part in the conga, and smiled as she watched her having fun.

“And you’re asking me because I don’t?”

Bill laughed loudly at that. 

“Fair point. But it works both ways, you know. It makes me...I dunno, happy, I guess, to know you’re doing okay. After everything that happened.”

Jules considered how much to divulge. Bill was clearly angling for some juicy details and it was nice to be able to talk about her relationship with Yaz to someone else. That was still novel and made easier by the fact that Bill was also Yaz’s friend. 

“Well, in that case...she gave me a spare key the other week. We’re not moving in, not yet,” Jules amended, before Bill could get a word in edgeways. “But we’re taking things slow.”

“Sounds about right. You guys have been taking it slow for the best part of a year.”

“Shut up,” Jules grumbled good-naturedly. “We were just figuring things out.”

“Like that ridiculous tension between you? How the hell did you miss that, by the way?”

“Oi! It wasn’t exactly straightforward, was it? Especially because sometimes there was an extra person in the equation.”

Jules raised her eyebrow as she waited for Bill to acknowledge her part in complicating matters. They hadn’t really talked about it since things had settled down. Bill took the point in characteristic good humour. She was much more like her old self than after their breakup, which was something of a relief because it assuaged Jules’s guilty conscience. 

“Alright, alright,” Bill held up her hands, an almost admission of guilt. “It was messy, yeah. But on the plus side, that tension led to some good things in the end, right? I can still see it now, you know. Before Missy turned up the other day you could barely keep your hands off one another.”

“Alright, I’m ending this conversation.” Jules drained the end of her beer as she tried to hide the flush on her cheeks. She’d thought they’d been subtle as of late but, as always, their friends seemed to see straight through any attempts to camouflage their relationship. The fact that Yaz was also playing things down suggested she was also enjoying an element of privacy, but it was borderline impossible to keep things quiet when they had such nosey, albeit caring, friends. 

Friends who now wanted her to take part in a limbo. Jules realised that, apart from Yaz, she was the most sober person in the room and decided that a limbo was probably her cue to leave. When she saw how low the bar had been set, she definitely knew she’d need to make an escape before she embarrassed herself.

“Why did you let the shortest people in the room set that up?” 

Clara and Rose shot her annoyed looks and Yaz laughed as she finally rejoined her, slotting their hands together. 

“Ready for the next part of your present?” she murmured in Jules’s ear, apparently also more than ready to leave. Any hesitation Jules might have felt about leaving - she was a trained medical professional, after all, and she had a feeling there would be more than one limbo-induced injury - evaporated. 

“Anyway, while you go on and break yourselves some more I’m outta here. Behave, please, or at least protect your ankles or you’ll be missing out on training.”

“You’re going?” 

A chorus of disappointed groans went up around the room and Yaz roped Bill into helping them escape. 

“Come on, guys. She’s old, remember? She needs that early night.” Bill shot Jules a wink and she groaned. 

“She won’t be getting one with Yaz,” someone piped up at the obvious opening that Bill’s words created, and there was a round of raucous laughter and lewd comments that Jules did her best to ignore. She should have been used to it, but there was always something of an automatic, protective response when Yaz was involved that set Jules on the defensive. A reassuring hand on her lower back reminded her that it was all meant in jest and she let Yaz take care of them.

“Alright, alright,” Donna spoke up, trying to placate the room. Jules sent her a silent thank you. “Bill’s neighbours hate us enough as it is. Let the birthday girl go and have fun and whoever fails at limbo has to down the rest of Martha’s punch and then clean up.”

“Hey, I thought you’d all be helping clean up,” Bill groused, and it was the last Jules heard of the chaos before Yaz shut the door behind them. The evening was warm and Jules took a deep breath, relieved to get some fresh air.

“I heard someone suggest a sleepover during the conga and knew we had to leave,” Yaz laughed, clearly also relieved to get away before events turned messy. They started to walk in the direction of Yaz’s flat, which was closest to Bill’s.

“Oh, god. Can you imagine the mess in the morning? Poor Bill.”

“Yeah I don’t think either of us were expecting everyone to get so into it. I’d take it as a compliment, though.”

“I definitely do. Thank you for the surprise,” Jules grinned. 

“Sorry if it was a bit much at the start,” Yaz acknowledged. “I forgot how loud they can be and even though I knew it was coming, it even startled me a bit.”

“It’s ok. You’d think I’d be alright with sudden, loud noises by now. It’s been years.” Jules tried a reassuring smile. The last thing she wanted was for Yaz to feel guilty.

“I can completely understand why you wouldn’t be, though. I’m so sorry.” Yaz’s palm came to rest on her lower back again as they walked. It was something she often did when she wanted to provide comfort and it never failed.

“Honestly, it’s fine,” Jules replied, and she meant it. It had been a blip and it had been beyond anybody’s control. “I think I was more surprised that you figured out when my birthday was. Bill told me about your detective work.”

“Ah. Yeah.” Yaz rubbed at the back of her neck with her free hand. “I figured you wouldn’t mind, I just realised that I’d known you for nearly an entire year and it had never come up, and-”

She was starting to get worked up, clearly worried that she’d overstepped a line. Jules ground them both to a halt. While she’d been a little discombobulated by the surprise, she’d accepted that her friends had had the best intentions and she’d actually enjoyed herself. That in itself was something of a surprise. 

“Yaz. Don’t worry. You smashed it. That’s the first time I’ve celebrated my birthday in so long that I can’t even remember how old I was the last time I actually marked the day. And I don’t ever recall being excited about my birthday, so you’ve set the bar ridiculously high.”

Yaz’s expression changed from anxious to sad; the corners of her mouth turned downwards in a look that pained Jules to see. 

“Really?”

Jules nodded, uncertain what else she could really say. It was a little depressing to have acknowledged those things aloud and she’d realised it too late. 

“Jules, that’s- that’s heartbreaking.”

“It’s alright. One of those things,” Jules shrugged. 

She was still getting used to dealing with sympathy when it came her way. It was always strange to hear someone else address the various hurts that had shaped her because a lot of the time, Jules would prefer to pretend they didn’t exist. It felt almost worse to hear them come from an outside perspective because the last thing she wanted to do was pity herself, and hearing things from a step removed made them seem even more brutal. She was still learning to accept that sympathy from someone else was not necessarily pity. Yaz was one of the few people that she would accept it from, though.

“And you’re sure you’re not upset that we found out?”

“Not at all. It was really fun, Yaz. I mean it.” Jules reached for both of her hands and squeezed them for emphasis. “Thank you.”

Yaz’s shoulders slumped in relief as they resumed walking. 

“I was a little stressed about it,” she admitted. “Keeping that a secret was so hard. I don’t like keeping secrets from you.”

“That’s probably a good thing,” Jules grinned. 

“That said, I do have one more surprise up my sleeve,” Yaz continued. “But you’ll have to wait until we’re home to find out.”

“In that case, why are we walking?”

“It’s only a twenty minute walk, babe.”

“Yeah, but Yaz...I want to find out.” Jules could hear the whine in her own voice but she was more than a little intrigued and impatient to see what else Yaz had planned.

“Look at you, all excited about your birthday,” Yaz smiled, and then she laughed as Jules made a point of picking up the pace. “Good things come to those who wait.”

“Yaz, it’s my birthday,” Jules pouted, belying her age. “Surely there’s a birthday rule somewhere that means I can get what I want? Do I have chips from all those birthdays I didn’t celebrate to cash in? Because I’m doing that now. Cashing in all my chips.”

“Oh you’ll definitely be getting something you want, Jules. The night is far from over.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, you can find me on twitter @_mag_lex  
> And I'd recommend subscribing to my Wordpress blog (maglexfic.wordpress.com) for new fics cos they're all going up on there :)


	46. Gift (E)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was planning to post this days ago but...y'know...this week has been a bit chaotic to say the least. I hope you're all doing ok ❤️ 
> 
> This chapter is 5k words of pure smut so if you wish to skip, the plot will resume in the next chapter :) I’m not sure if it helps to know roughly how long I plan for it to be - I haven’t put a final number up because I’m constantly tweaking the outline - but I’d put a guess at another 10 chapters or so (and it may well be longer, we’ll see how long my muse plays ball).
> 
> Those of you who were paying attention from chapter 32 onwards could probably guess that some elements of this were coming 😉 It was fun leaving a little trail of hints. But chapter 32 was mid-September (bloody hell) so hopefully some of this might also come as a bit of a surprise.

Jules practically fell over her own feet at the door as she hurried to toe off her Converse. 

“Steady,” Yaz cautioned, holding out an arm so that she could hold on for balance. “You need to be intact for this.”

Jules ignored her in favour of kicking her shoes to one side. 

“Alright, I’m ready.” She eagerly awaited her next clue.

“I don’t think you are, actually,” Yaz replied. “But I appreciate your enthusiasm.” 

There was always tension when they were left alone but Jules had sensed it mounting to an almost unbearable degree as they’d neared home. Yaz hadn’t given any hints about what the next part of her present might be, but Jules had an inkling that it would involve less clothing than they were currently wearing, and was proved correct when Yaz told her to go through to the bedroom. It was unlikely the evening would end any other way than naked if they were going to bed this early on. The late summer sun hadn’t even set.

“I’ll just be a moment. Make yourself comfortable.”

Jules’s mind was racing as she contemplated what Yaz might be planning because she still hadn’t let on much at all. For instance, she hadn’t explicitly asked Jules to remove her clothes and Jules could just about pick out the sounds of...something, from down the hall, so she was none the wiser about what Yaz was even doing while she waited. There followed the sound of silence, which confused her even more. What was Yaz up to? Jules wondered if being kept waiting was also a deliberate part of Yaz’s plan. It was certainly working, because the suspense was killing her. 

When Yaz finally emerged wearing a different outfit entirely, Jules’s jaw dropped. Apparently the sounds she’d heard were of Yaz getting changed. She was glad she’d chosen to sit on the bed because Yaz never failed to make her knees weak, and especially not that evening.

“Thought I’d get into something a little more comfortable for this,” Yaz explained, and the silk robe she was wearing did look incredibly comfortable, Jules had to agree. Her eyes widened as Yaz stepped closer but she was frozen in place, transfixed by the sight of Yaz’s toned legs. The material stopped mid-thigh and showed them off wonderfully. And her breasts...Jules felt her brain stop functioning when she saw them bound beautifully by red silk. 

“You alright there?” Yaz smirked, cheeks flushed as she took in her reaction.

Jules nodded, and licked her lips. 

“Breathe, Jules.”

“On it.” Jules took a deep breath to demonstrate and then another, which she held as Yaz’s hands moved to the sash around her waist and loosened it. She didn’t even want to blink for fear she’d miss something but when the material fell away, she simply couldn’t believe her eyes. 

“I thought you might like it,” Yaz smiled, clearly pleased by her response. “Happy birthday, baby.” 

Jules just about heard her, too focused on the lingerie Yaz had bought for the occasion. Red lace did a perfect job of drawing her eye to her curves and Jules swallowed, hard, when she remembered that this was all for her. 

“Happy birthday to me,” she drawled, finally looking at Yaz’s face. “May I?”

She was never normally so formal but something about the way that Yaz was calling the shots - and the way she was dressed - made Jules hesitate to act like she normally would. The element of surprise suggested that Yaz might have a plan for how she hoped the evening would progress and Jules didn’t want to mess that up. Going from some of their recent encounters, Yaz had shown an inclination to lead the way. Jules wondered if this would be such an occasion. 

“I was hoping you would, actually,” Yaz admitted, sliding onto Jules’s lap so easily that Jules almost choked on air when she realised her girlfriend’s very toned thighs were suddenly straddling her own. They felt warm and firm pressed against the bare skin of Jules’s legs, and she was grateful she’d worn shorts but she could feel her brain short-circuiting already and they’d barely even started. Being surprised really did leave her on the back foot but at least with Yaz, she knew she’d enjoy whatever was coming her way. 

“God, you look...incredible,” she murmured, relieved that she could finally touch Yaz. Her hands roved freely as she traced the delicate lace, boldly touching her up.

“You’re really turning me on,” Yaz admitted, and Jules realised she was hardly staying still, either; her breaths were coming faster and her hips were subtly rocking against the crotch of Jules’s shorts. 

“Want me to do something about that?”

To her surprise, Yaz shook her head. 

“I’ve not finished with your present. You see, this one has a few parts.” 

Jules mourned the loss of warmth from her lap even as she felt the heat between her own thighs when Yaz stood up. That heat grew when she watched Yaz turn and walk towards the dresser, and she wondered who she had to thank for inventing the thong. 

When Yaz turned to show her silk ties and a blindfold, Jules didn’t quite know what to say. It was all too clear from Yaz’s determined expression that she was still going to be calling the shots and that suggested that Yaz wasn’t going to be the one who was tied up and deprived of her vision. 

Jules fidgeted. The thought was exciting, but it was new and made her a little nervous, even if they’d briefly discussed it before. She reminded herself that she was with Yaz, and that she was safe, even if she didn’t entirely know what was coming. 

Yaz eyed her hands as they moved in her lap. 

“I had a feeling you'd have a hard time keeping still. And apparently these are more comfortable than handcuffs. I did my research, as promised.” 

Jules gulped and it would have been comical if not for the fact that she was far too aroused to find anything funny.

“Do you trust me?”

It was the million dollar question. This was more than Yaz asking if Jules was comfortable with being tied up. This was Yaz asking Jules if she trusted her not to hurt her, and the look on her face was deadly serious. It struck Jules that Yaz might be a little nervous, too.

Jules took a breath and considered the question. She wanted to give Yaz whatever she wanted, but she had to separate that out and listen to her own thoughts. She ignored the binds and focused on Yaz’s face, thinking about the woman she loved. Yes, she trusted her, without a doubt. And even more, she wanted to test their boundaries and break new ground together. 

She recalled what she'd once told Yaz: _"I know with you, there’s only so much control I can have."_

It was time to put her theory to the test. Jules nodded, and a look of relief passed over Yaz’s face. 

“What are you going to say if you want me to stop?”

“I doubt that's going to happen," Jules replied easily.

“Humour me, baby. It’s important.” Yaz urged.

"Alright.” Jules pondered. Then she said the first thing that came to mind. “Offside.”

What remained of her nerves started to dissipate when Yaz laughed and unbuttoned her shirt. 

“Of course you’d choose something football related,” she murmured, and Jules was certain she was moving at a glacial pace to wind her up even more. 

Then her shirt was open and Yaz’s hands were underneath it, not removing it but sliding up the sides of her stomach and cupping her breasts through her bra. 

“Hey,” she spoke softly, gazing into Jules’s eyes, and for a second Jules completely forgot what they were about to do. She could always get lost when Yaz looked at her like that. It was like the rest of the universe simply faded away. Or, rather, it had been condensed and consolidated into one single being who in turn looked at her like she'd hung the stars in the sky.

“Hey, you."

Then Yaz kissed her and it helped ease any remaining nerves Jules had about ceding any and all control to her. 

“Let me take care of you.” With that, Yaz finally slid her shirt off, and then her bra was gone, and together they removed her shorts until she was left in her boxers. Although Yaz was barely dressed herself, she was still technically wearing more clothes than Jules and when she guided Jules’s hands upwards to start tying them to the bed, she felt a wave of vulnerability. 

“You comfy, babe?”

Jules made a show of testing the binds and didn’t fail to notice Yaz’s eyes widen as she watched. 

“Yeah,” she breathed. The loss of mobility felt a little strange but she couldn’t deny the thrill that raced through her at the prospect of what was to come. Yaz was clearly affected, too.

“Good, ‘cos hopefully you're gonna be there a while.”

Yaz retrieved the blindfold.

“You okay with this? We don't have to, though. I just thought it might make things feel a bit different.”

Jules contemplated the material in Yaz’s hand. 

“Don’t forget, you can always just say the word,” Yaz reminded her. “Just thought it might give things an...edge.”

There was a glint in her eye that immediately sparked Jules’s interest.

“Yeah. Yep. All good.” She nodded eagerly, letting Yaz do the honours - it wasn’t like she could do it herself - and taking a steady breath when everything went black. 

Once she’d got used to the novelty, Jules realised it was liberating to not see what was going on because the reduced input instantly slowed her thoughts. She might have felt self-conscious but without being able to see what was happening, Jules gave up on that fast, and that made it all the easier to focus her attention on the other clues Yaz was leaving her. 

She felt the bed dip as Yaz moved and tensed in anticipation of what was to come. 

“You'll have to wear that thong again to make up for this,” Jules joked, hearing nothing but the sound of their breathing and her heart in her ears. Her nose twitched as she inhaled the light scent of Yaz’s perfume.

“I thought you’d enjoy that,” Yaz hummed, and her voice was coming from right below Jules’s ear. Jules shivered as warm breath tickled the sensitive skin of her neck and then she felt smooth skin touch her own as Yaz apparently braced herself over her. Jules was shocked to realise how efficiently her other senses were making up for her lack of sight but there was still an element of surprise in proceedings because Yaz was moving so quietly.

It felt odd not to see Yaz and she missed watching her but she wasn’t used to being the focus of attention in quite the same way. Any lingering self-consciousness evaporated when she felt Yaz’s hair tickle her chest as she worked her way downwards. When a warm tongue laved across her nipple she arched into it, groaning in frustration when she felt the restraints around her wrists pull her back. 

It clearly wasn’t going to take long for Yaz to wind her up and Jules could practically hear her smirk as she told her to stay still. The lips against her skin parted and kissed and licked, moved, and repeated themselves in a pattern that was so random that Jules rapidly gave up trying to predict what was coming next.

“Yaz,” she sighed, and the neediness in her tone was something she’d never heard before. “Yaz, please.”

“This is fun.” Yaz pressed another kiss to a spot of skin just over her ribs, and Jules shivered as she felt cooler air pass over the damp patch she’d left behind. “Wish I’d thought of this earlier.”

Any response Jules might have had died on her lips when she felt Yaz start to move downwards - at least, she thought and hoped so - and she bit her lip when she finally felt fingers slide underneath her thighs to guide her legs apart. The touch felt more ticklish than usual and she practically writhed against the sheets, desperate for more tangible contact. 

“You look so hot right now,” Yaz murmured, and Jules could hear how her breathing was affected by the sight. She had a vivid mental image of how she might look and tried to imagine herself in Yaz’s position. The thought made her start to sweat.

“You up for a bit of reciprocation?” she asked, pleased that she managed to at least get her words out because nothing other than pleasure and the anticipation of it was sparking the connections in her brain.

“Maybe.” Jules could hear the smile in Yaz’s voice. “But not tonight. Tonight is all about you, remember? You ready to cash in those chips?”

“I’m all in,” Jules blurted, and then she whimpered as she felt Yaz mouth at her over her underwear. Her hips bucked upwards, desperate for pressure, even through the fabric, but Yaz was obviously taking her time. Her touch remained teasing but there was more of a deliberate pattern to it, this time. Yaz knew what she was doing and she knew how to make her feel good. 

Jules wished she could use her hands but she had to let Yaz dictate the pace. There was the soft, teasing touch of lips against her through the damp material and it was just enough of a barrier that she groaned in frustration once again. She longed to feel Yaz’s mouth directly against her but she had no way of moving things along. 

Correction: she had one way. 

“Oh my god. Yaz. Please, Yaz,” she panted, abandoning any pretence of restraint as she felt Yaz’s nose nudge against her clit. She hadn’t noticed she was pulling on the binds quite so hard until Yaz stopped what she was doing. 

“Easy, babe. But since you asked so nicely.”

Jules held her breath when she felt Yaz tug down her boxers and then let it out in a gasp when she finally felt Yaz’s mouth on her. But again she pursued a leisurely pace, one that was clearly designed to work her up but not get her off. Jules started to wonder what she’d signed up for. 

“Focus on me,” Yaz urged, and held onto her hips to keep her in place as she resumed eating her out.

“I am,” Jules groaned. “You’re driving me crazy.”

Yaz hummed into her in response, preoccupied. Jules lost all concept of time, driven to distraction by Yaz’s tongue and the feel of her hands cupping her arse. She broke out in a fresh sweat as Yaz slowed. All of the air seemed to have left the room.

“You okay?”

Jules nodded, breathless. She’d never felt quite so out of control before and it was exciting but she was so painfully aroused that she hoped Yaz would take care of things before too long. Added to that the fact that she couldn’t see or touch her girlfriend, and the sensory deprivation was starting to push her patience to the limits.

“Can you hold on?” Yaz asked. “Just a sec.”

Jules nearly laughed. There wasn’t much else she could do.

“What for?” she asked instead, still breathless with anticipation.

“The rest of your surprise.”

Jules felt a brief rush of validation - she’d known Yaz still had something up her sleeve - and then it disappeared as Yaz pressed a teasing kiss against her lips. Jules could taste herself. Then the bed dipped and Yaz was gone. 

In the silence that followed, Jules tried to garner what clues she could. There was the sound of a drawer opening and then Yaz returned, judging by the fact that the bed dipped again. 

“I think you're ready for the next part of your surprise.”

Jules frowned beneath the blindfold and then she heard the distinctive sound of a bottle being uncapped. Instantly, her mind leapt to the most obvious conclusion. She was a firm believer in Occam’s razor. The most likely possibility was that Yaz had returned with lube, and the thought of what that might mean sent another thrill racing up Jules’s spine. 

“Just going to take this off,” Yaz informed her, and then the gentle pressure around her eyes was gone. Jules blinked as she adjusted to the light hitting her eyes. The sun was clearly setting but Yaz had lit candles and was still wearing the red lacy bra, and-

Even though Jules had had suspicions, the sight of Yaz wearing her strap-on still made her do a double take. 

“I said one day I'd return the favour,” Yaz explained. 

Jules swallowed thickly. She was aching for Yaz to touch her again and now that she knew what Yaz had planned she could feel that ache grow exponentially. 

“That you did,” she replied, mouth dry. 

“Would you like me to?”

Yaz seemed a little apprehensive; Jules was, too, because she was rarely on the receiving end. But seeing Yaz like that flipped a switch in her brain; her body was obviously on board with the idea given how it had reacted to the sight and the thought of Yaz taking her like that. And really, Yaz was probably the only person who could take her like that, which spurred her on even further. 

“Yes.”

A gentle smile eased onto Yaz’s face as she settled between her legs. She teased her with the toy, tapping her clit gently with the tip before running it through her folds. Jules was so wet that she could hear it clearly and she felt her face burn even as Yaz continued to tease her, paradoxically making her even wetter. Whenever she reached her entrance, Jules tried to encourage things along and roll her hips to pull her inside, but Yaz always moved away and continued to press through her arousal instead, nudging her clit with every stroke. 

After several minutes of torture, Jules was at the end of her tether.

“Yaz, please,” she pleaded. “Please.”

“Please what, baby?”

Jules was glad she no longer had the blindfold on because she could see just how much Yaz was enjoying herself. 

“Please just fuck me already,” she practically growled, tugging on the restraints to prove her point. “Or I’m going to break the bed.”

Yaz’s answering chuckle only served to send her heart rate even higher.

“Watch me.”

Jules suspected that Yaz’s recent burst of self-confidence was responsible for the request. She recalled how Yaz had taken control after Missy had shown up in the pub and how strong she’d become over recent weeks. That strength and self-possession was on full display now and it was one of the most attractive things Jules had ever seen. 

She watched with wide eyes as Yaz finally slid inside. Yaz moved slowly, and looked up to check in with every inch, and Jules told herself to be patient. It had been a while since she’d been in this position and it was new for Yaz, too, a fact that became even more obvious when she saw how her breath trembled, stirring the hair that had come loose from her bun. 

She was so gentle and careful that Jules was riveted by the sight. And then Yaz rubbed carefully over her clit to ease the way and Jules's eyes slammed shut of their own accord. 

“That’s it,” Yaz encouraged. The tremble in her breath had made it to her voice. 

Jules focused on the stretch as she welcomed her inside. Now she understood why Yaz had worked her up so thoroughly; she felt the thick slide and press inside of her and that was before Yaz had even started moving. Jules was suddenly glad that she was being gentle and taking her time. 

Then there was pressure against her clit. Jules looked down to see that she was all the way inside, and that the pressure was from Yaz’s body being pressed so intimately against her own. 

Yaz stared at where they were joined, mouth open. Her brow was crinkled in concentration. 

“Fuck,” she gasped, arms tensing as they bore her weight. “Fuck. I’m inside you.”

Jules was arrested by the sight, too. Yaz pulled out a little and she could see how they were joined, the slick silicone connecting them; but even better, Yaz was pressed up right between her legs. 

She moved, and the first few thrusts took some getting used to, but by the fourth or fifth, Jules had not only adjusted but was positively begging for more. She felt her ears burn with the sound of Yaz moving inside her. 

“Fuck,” she practically sobbed, wrists pulling on the binds as her head fell back to the pillow. It was overwhelming.

“You alright?”

“Yeah. With you, yeah. Just need a sec.” Jules could hear her own voice trembling; Yaz leaned up to dot tender kisses over her face and the top of her breasts while she waited for the go-ahead. 

The gentle contact was soothing and Jules relaxed into it. She knew Yaz wouldn’t rush her.

“Alright,” she nodded after a moment, or at least she thought she did; she was already starting to lose her grasp of reality and when Yaz started to move again, she realised she might not have a hold of it for much longer. 

She could feel everything: the constant slide of the toy, the way Yaz was pressing inside, the little roll of her hips, and every now and again the gentle pressure of a thumb against her clit. But it would move away just as Jules started to feel the pleasure mount and she realised that Yaz really was going to take her time. Despite that, or perhaps because of it, it didn’t take her long to near a climax, and she made the mistake of telling Yaz. 

“Not yet,” Yaz panted, and she’d broken out in a sweat, too. Her hips were rolling more fluidly as she found her groove - apparently she was a natural - but Jules wished she could hold onto them and encourage her to finish what she’d started. 

Instead, Yaz slowed almost to a stop, aiming for deep, slow strokes until the tightening in Jules’s belly relaxed. She’d almost reached boiling point and now Yaz was reducing her to a simmer. 

"You ok? Talk to me," Yaz encouraged.

“Can’t talk,” Jules admitted. “Brain fried.”

“You remember what to say if it gets too much?”

Jules nodded. As desperate as she was, she was nowhere near ready to use that word. And as much as she wanted to come, she didn’t want Yaz to stop doing what she was doing. Ever. 

“I’m good.”

“Good,” Yaz smiled, and tucked some of Jules’s hair out of her face. “You look gorgeous.”

“You’re not just saying that because you’re in the middle of-”

“No,” Yaz cut her off, flustered. “You’re always gorgeous to me. I’m so lucky to have you.”

To prove her point, Yaz shifted so that she was face-to-face with Jules and kissed her so soundly that Jules finally felt her heart rate ease with the comforting contact. She’d been so wound up that it was nice to have a breather. Before long, though, Yaz started to move her hips again until they had resumed their previous pace, and their tongues danced lazily as she pursued a gentle rhythm. Jules knew then they'd be fucking for a while at that rate but she really didn’t want it to end and she marvelled at Yaz's strength.

She had never felt anything like it. It was like Yaz knew just what she needed without being told. Her hips pistoned as she pulled away to watch Jules, then she brushed their noses together to kiss her again. It was getting harder to breathe but that, combined with the tension around her wrists, wound Jules up even higher. It felt different to any other time they’d been together and although she was completely powerless, she felt safe. She could do nothing but take what Yaz was giving her and she was content to relax in the knowledge that Yaz just wanted to make her feel good. To make her feel loved. 

Jules cradled her with her legs, opening herself as wide as she could and feeling Yaz drive even deeper. Both of them were sweating, their skin gliding together as Yaz moved between her legs, and the edge of discomfort made Jules pull at her binds again. 

Still, Yaz took her time. Jules could see that she was having to hold back; she could hear the soft puffs and grunts in her ear as Yaz edged her again, slowing her pace once more.

“Fuck. Please, Yaz. Please,” Jules struggled to speak and she wondered if she was becoming delirious. 

Yaz rocked slowly, stretching and filling her in a way that she’d clearly learned left Jules yearning for more. But both of them were breathing hard by that point and on one level, Jules wondered if their competitive natures had something to do with it; if Yaz was testing which one of them would break first. While Jules was being driven to the brink again and again, it was also clearly a test of stamina for Yaz.

In the end, Jules caved. She suspected Yaz was waiting for her to admit defeat and her arms were beginning to ache from being tied down for so long. 

“Please, Yaz,” Jules murmured. “Please touch me.”

Yaz raised an eyebrow in question. By then it was dark outside and she was lit only by candlelight, but Jules could read her plainly. 

“You know where,” Jules continued. “I need to come, Yaz. Please.”

To her relief, Yaz did finally take pity and touch her; with determined strokes she passed over her clit with her thumb as she started again but this time, the pace started to escalate and her thrusts became rapid and shallow. 

Jules could feel it building and could see the determination on Yaz’s face, similar to the expression she wore on the pitch. She knew it was going to be a strong one because she could feel it pulling hard, already, and that thought propelled her even faster to the edge. 

“Give it to me, Jules. Come on. It's mine,” Yaz encouraged. 

She didn’t say the words aloud, but Jules could imagine them clearly: _you’re mine_.

The possessive edge in Yaz’s tone and the glint of her teeth in the candlelight set Jules off and she finally tipped over the edge, falling harder than she’d ever felt before. Yaz kept moving but Jules barely noticed; the room was spinning like she was drunk or sliding off the edge of the world itself and she held on tight, anchored by the ties around her wrists and Yaz inside her, pinning her to the bed as she fucked her into the mattress.

The next thing she was aware of was the pressure around her wrists finally easing. Even with her hands free she couldn’t find the energy to move her arms; it felt like whatever battery she ran on had been completely drained. She had been stripped back to nothing but nerves and endorphins.

“Water?”

She eagerly accepted a drink and then her arms gave out on her and she returned to the mattress, scooped up by Yaz only moments later. 

“God you're hot when you come like that. I could feel how tight you got.”

Jules laughed lightly. She knew just how Yaz felt. 

“Now you know why I like it.”

Yaz nodded. “Was that ok? Would you do that again?”

Jules turned in her arms, grinning dopily. Her heart had just about returned to a more normal rate. 

“More than ok. You just set the bar for birthday sex.”

“It was intense,” Yaz grinned as she tucked some hair behind her ear. 

“Yeah. But in a good way.”

“Mmhmm.”

Jules drowsed for a bit, surrounded by Yaz. It felt like she was floating.

“You know...I was thinking.”

Yaz roused her and Jules bit back a yawn; it was a struggle to keep her eyes open. The candles had nearly burned themselves out. As much as she wanted to touch Yaz now that her hands were free, Jules could tell from her voice that Yaz was just as tired as she was. But although it had been an eventful evening and it would be so easy to drift off and sleep, she didn’t want it to end just yet. She loved talking to Yaz. She could talk to Yaz all day, every day, and never get bored, and she loved talking to Yaz on either side of sleep. It was the best way to start or end any day.

“What’s that?” 

“You have that key, but I wondered if you might want to find a place. Together. And we can do that even more.”

That woke Jules up. Her brain suddenly kicked back into gear as she realised what Yaz had suggested. 

“Did you just ask me if I wanted to move in with you?”

Yaz shrugged in an attempt at nonchalance.

“Yeah. Maybe find somewhere new? A fresh start for the new year and all that. My lease is up in January.”

The very thought made Jules’s heart grow warm. It seemed as if Yaz was determined to wring out every ounce of joy and pleasure she could from her birthday. It definitely felt like she was making up for lost ones; in fact, it felt like all of her birthdays rolled into one.

“You just want someone to keep your flat tidy.” Jules deflected with humour as she tried to digest what Yaz had just asked her. She was still scrambling to catch up after Yaz had essentially screwed her brains out.

“Well yes, that,” Yaz rolled her eyes affectionately. “That, and I’d like to wake up with you. Like...all the time. You're there most mornings, I know, but…”

The nonchalance faded to reveal Yaz’s true state of mind: she was nervous, which was obvious from the way she worried at her lip with her teeth. Jules marvelled at how they’d got to this point, at the progress they’d made even in the past few weeks.

Most of all, though, she was surprised. She'd thought Yaz might want to take things slow, but they were stronger than ever; this was a sign of her commitment. Was it all that surprising? It only took a moment to digest the idea and once she did, Jules realised it felt exciting. More than that: it felt right. 

She didn’t know whether to laugh in delight, or kiss Yaz, or tell Yaz her answer, so she went with her gut and kissed her, smiling as she felt Yaz melt into it. 

“I want that too. More than anything,” she admitted as they separated. She traced Yaz’s cheek with her thumb, trying to ease her nerves. “Shall I get the U-Haul ready?”

Yaz rolled her eyes again, this time with a gentle sigh of exasperation. 

“Jules, I swear-”

“Kidding, kidding,” Jules replied. “Got other things I want to do first.”

It was surprising how quickly she got a second wind but the thought of her future with Yaz had something of a restorative effect. 

Yaz sighed happily as Jules finally stripped her of her lacy underwear, and neither of them noticed the candles finally sputter out, too wrapped up in one another to care.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, you can find me on twitter @_mag_lex (although I'm taking a little breather from it this week). 
> 
> All new fics are going up on WordPress for the foreseeable future (maglexfic.wordpress.com).


	47. Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot there was a teensy bit of plot at the end of the last chapter - for those who had to skip it, Yaz asked Jules to move in 🙂 This took me so long to get down because I struggled with it for quite a while, sorry for the delay! But it's a bit longer than most updates so hopefully that helps make up for the wait!

Jules had no doubt in her mind that Yaz would pass probation but the moment the news arrived, it took her a good few seconds to actually realise what that meant: Yaz was going to become a fully fledged police officer, with all that entailed. They’d talked a little about what that meant in terms of practical considerations, such as shifts, and Jules tried to ignore the niggle at the back of her mind that Yaz might be put into more difficult situations than she had before. Not that she wasn’t in them already - Jules would never forget when she returned home with that black eye - but the pressure and responsibility were certain to ramp up as Yaz was challenged with anything and everything a full-time police officer might have to encounter.

Neither of them were immune to the potential for danger in their lines of work but the thought of Yaz being on the front line was enough to keep Jules awake at night, and so she simply ignored the reality of what would happen once probation ended. But in the end it had to, as all things did. Just as summer drew to a close and the days started to turn cooler and shorter, Yaz received the email she’d been awaiting for days. Months, technically, since her probation had lasted for the best part of two years; Jules had to pinch herself when she realised that she’d been part of Yaz’s life for half of it.

Another thing she hadn’t fully considered was that the celebration she’d alluded to on their first proper date was something that might be shared with others: namely, Yaz’s family. 

“So, my mum and dad, and my sister...they want to come to the ceremony,” Yaz said one morning over breakfast. Jules had insisted they go out for brunch to celebrate the good news and urged Yaz to choose the most indulgent item on the menu. She was about to tuck into a mountain of pancakes - her own reward for finishing a stint of night shifts - when Yaz spoke up. 

“Of course, it’s a big day,” she replied, fork paused halfway to her mouth. Yaz was going to dress in her formal uniform to mark the occasion and frankly speaking, that was all that Jules could think about when she considered it. But of course Yaz’s family would want to attend the confirmation ceremony. There were other important people in her life who would want to be there. It was the first proper opportunity Jules would have to meet them and it was probably long overdue, now that she thought about it. She and Yaz were planning to move in together, after all, and Yaz was clearly close with her parents but despite that, Yaz had kept them separate. Even though Jules had suggested that her parents come along to a game, it had never come to fruition. This was the first time Yaz had actually suggested they meet.

“Would you be okay with…” Yaz tapered off. She hadn’t touched her breakfast. Jules realised that Yaz was actually nervous about asking, and that helped quell her own nervous excitement at the prospect. She really wanted to make a good impression, not just for herself but for Yaz. That mattered to her most of all. 

“Meeting them?” Jules supplied, putting down her fork to reach for Yaz’s hand when she nodded. “Of course I would. I was hoping to, actually.”

“Yeah?” Yaz exhaled in relief. “There’s no pressure, I know this is all on me. They’re my family, after all.”

Jules squeezed her hand in gentle reassurance. There was an unaddressed issue that hung in the air, which was that she had no family of her own to speak of; she hadn’t ever had to consider introducing Yaz to anybody, so she had only a vague idea of how Yaz might be feeling. 

They had never spoken about it, though, and as Jules contemplated Yaz’s worries about the family meeting, she realised she’d have to address it before long. Their little bubble of just the two of them was going to have to expand, and change, to accommodate and address other important people in their lives, or the lack thereof. It was inevitable.

“And that’s ok,” she offered. Her appetite shrank a little as she contemplated the uncomfortable discussion she was going to have to have with Yaz. She rarely thought about her own parents for good reason. “We can just take it one step at a time.”

Yaz nodded, clearly reassured. “Yeah. I’m going to give them a list of topics that are off the table, too. Hopefully my mum actually sticks to it.”

“Don’t worry, Yaz. I can hold my own."

“I know, but...you haven’t met my mum.”

Jules couldn’t help but laugh at the apprehensive expression on Yaz’s face, even though there was probably a very good reason it was there. She wasn’t sure what that boded for her but it wouldn’t be long until she found out.

“Come on, your food’s getting cold,” she pointed out, keen to put Yaz's mind at rest. “I’ll do my best not to put my foot in it. I’ll be on my best behaviour.” She gave a mock solute and relaxed when Yaz laughed. 

“You don’t need to do that,” Yaz replied, tucking into her plate of food at last.

“I think once I see you in that uniform, I’ll have to be,” Jules wriggled her eyebrows, and Yaz nudged her with her foot under the table. 

* * *

The thought of getting Yaz out of that uniform was what kept Jules awake and alert for the entire confirmation ceremony. It was a rather long and protracted affair but Jules wouldn’t have missed it for the world. As an added bonus, she got to see Bill similarly attired as she stepped onto the stage and she made sure to give her an enthusiastic thumbs up to let her know she was there. Bill had rolled her eyes when she spotted Jules and subtly pointed towards Amy, who was similarly stuck watching from the crowd. 

Jules gave Amy a cheerful wave and let her gaze wander. A few rows ahead she was certain she could make out the heads of Yaz’s family, but they’d yet to actually meet; Yaz had already found them a seat when Jules had arrived, running late from work. She’d gratefully fallen into a spare chair when she’d seen Yaz in her uniform, relieved that she didn’t have to try and make polite conversation after she was derailed by what Yaz was wearing. 

Jules straightened her tie as the ceremony drew to a close and got to her feet, clapping enthusiastically and beaming at Yaz when she caught her eye. Her fellow audience members were clearly keen for the reception to commence and the crowd started to move rapidly towards the adjoining room and the promise of food and drink. 

She bit back a yawn. All she truly wanted was a coffee or a nap but the latter was out of the question for the time being, and when she saw Yaz meet her family and point Jules out to them, the need for coffee evaporated; she felt a spike of nerves when she laid eyes on Yaz’s parents for the first time and they started to make their way over.

In a last-ditch attempt to keep calm, Jules shoved her hands in her pockets. She didn’t want them to give her away with any over-enthusiastic gestures. 

“Hey, Jules,” Yaz grinned as she reached her first and gave her a cautious once-over. “You alright?” 

She frowned when she saw how Jules was standing and reached for one of her hands. “It’s alright, I’ll keep you safe.”

Jules obliged and silently apologised to Yaz for her sweaty palm. But it helped to know that Yaz was with her. She was about to feel like the odd one out, but the hand in hers was a connection between them. Yaz was the common denominator. It was also nice to know that Yaz wasn’t afraid to show simple affection at her place of work, never mind in front of her parents, who had finally joined them.

“Jules, this...this is my mum and dad.”

Jules gave them a broad smile as they approached, glad that her hands were otherwise occupied or she’d have full-on waved out of habit. Despite her nerves, she was delighted to meet them.

“Nice to finally meet you, Jules. I’m Hakim, and this is Najia.” Yaz’s dad held out a hand and Jules yanked hers from her pocket to give his a firm shake. 

“Nice to meet you Hakim, Najia,” she replied. 

“Don’t forget me!” a voice piped up from behind them.

“Of course,” Yaz sighed. “How could I forget. My sister, Sonya.”

“Alright?” the younger woman said, giving Jules a bluntly inquisitive look. She glanced at their joined hands, shrugged, then whipped out her phone and wandered off with it. Yaz sighed again, this time in relief.

“That means you passed,” she smiled.

“Passed?” Jules asked, thoroughly confused. 

“Sonya might be the younger sister but she’s...shall we say...quite protective over Yaz,” Najia supplied, and gave her elder daughter a comforting pat on the arm. “That she didn’t ask you where you got your shoes from...”

“Or comment on us holding hands,” Yaz supplied - Jules didn’t miss the way Najia’s eyes flicked to their hands at the mention of them - “means you get a stamp of approval.”

While she might not have had a family of her own, Jules had a good enough idea of family dynamics to understand what younger sisters - and especially younger sisters of Sonya’s age - could be like. She saw plenty of technology-obsessed students in the hospital and there was enough of an age gap between Yaz and her sister that they were bound to bicker. 

“Believe it or not, she actually put her phone away for the whole ceremony,” Hakim murmured conspiratorially, and Najia tutted as Sonya started talking animatedly on the phone. 

“Sonya! Keep it down,” she gestured with her hand. Sonya simply rolled her eyes and walked out into the corridor. 

“She’s glued to it,” Najia sighed, resigned. “We actually had to bribe her to switch it off. Although that means Hakim was responsible for taking the photos of Yaz on stage.”

“They came out alright!” he protested, fishing for his own phone. “Look.”

He smiled proudly as he unlocked his phone and scrolled through several identical, slightly wonky pictures he’d taken of his daughter during the ceremony.

Jules couldn’t help her own grin as she saw just how proud Yaz’s parents were. She was proud of Yaz, too, but it was nice to share that with them. Their common ground was Yaz, and talking about Yaz was something Jules could do until the cows came home. As they talked, Jules started to get a feel for them both. Hakim was very laid-back and although she could sense that Najia was a fairly upfront woman, Jules was certain she could handle what was to come. Najia seemed to be taking it easy on her. 

They made light conversation for the best part of half an hour until Jules had to excuse herself to use the bathroom; when she returned, Yaz was alone. 

“Where did your folks go?” she frowned. Surely they wouldn't have left without saying goodbye? Although she wouldn't have been averse to heading home; she was dead on her feet and very much looking forward to taking Yaz home. 

Yaz was fidgeting with the ring on her finger, her nervous tic.

“So, slight change in plan….my dad is insisting we go for dinner at theirs. He wants to make you pakora.”

“Pakora?” Jules was touched that someone she’d only just met wanted to cook for her. But Yaz pulled a face. 

“They’re terrible. And I hate to say it, but you’re going to end up eating them at some point, I can almost guarantee it.”

As much as Jules longed to crawl into bed, she could tell that Yaz was torn. If she’d not wanted to go she would already have declined, but by giving Jules the option she was giving her a route out. But Jules knew it would be rude not to go, and really, what was dinner with her girlfriend’s parents? She could handle the adrenaline of A&E and the strain of serving in the army. Terrible homemade pakoras and a sit-down meal would be easy by comparison.

“In that case, there’s no time like the present,” she smiled. 

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t mind if you didn’t want to. Today’s been long enough as it is and you must be shattered.”

“I'm certain. It’ll be nice to spend some more time with them.” Jules knew that Yaz was close with her parents and despite her protests about the pakora, that she would probably quite like to have dinner with them. 

“Yeah, I feel a bit bad,” Yaz admitted. “I’ve not really seen much of them since before exams.”

“I think I’m partly to blame for that, too,” Jules replied as they made their way to the exit. “I kept you all to myself for the summer.”

“And what a brilliant summer that was,” Yaz sighed, and she shivered slightly as they left the overheated building and into the night air. “On the flip side, now you get to see where I grew up.”

“Now that is exciting. Does that mean I also get to see all of your childhood photos?”

Yaz stopped walking as they reached the car park. 

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes,” Jules laughed. “One of the perks of being the stranger in the midst. I get to learn all about you while your parents get to learn all about me.”

“Is it too late to change my mind?”

“I think it might be, babe. Your dad’s waving at us.”

Jules waved back as Hakim beckoned them over. 

“So, you both ready for some home cooking?” he asked, and Jules was captivated by his enthusiasm. She always enjoyed being in the company of passionate people and although Yaz had forewarned her about his culinary skills, anybody who was that passionate about cooking couldn’t be that bad at it, surely. Jules was starting to wonder if Yaz was over-worrying. After all, Najia hadn’t been as remotely prying as Yaz had made her out to be. Jules was still waiting for the grilling she’d been warned about.

“Oh, yes. I’ve heard you make a mean pakora, Mr Khan.”

“None of this formality, Jules. You can call me Hakim.” Yaz’s dad was clearly pleased at the compliment. “And my reputation precedes me, I see! I’ll have to make extras so you can take some home.”

“Please don’t, dad,” Sonya sighed as she got into the car. "You always make too much and then we're stuck with them for days."

Najia gave Yaz a hug. 

“We’re proud of you, sweetheart. The least we can do is cook you some dinner.”

“We'll meet you there, mum. Jules can drive us.”

“Alright. We’ll see you soon. Don’t forget, don’t park-”

“I know, don’t park on the next street over,” Yaz recited. “It’s not been that long since I came ‘round.”

They watched as Yaz’s family departed, and Jules startled as Yaz’s forehead abruptly connected with her shoulder. 

“Suddenly regretting my decision,” she grumbled. “I could have had you to myself for the evening.” Jules clumsily reached up to pat her on the head. 

“You’ll have me to yourself for as many evenings as you like, babe. Come on. It’s like ripping off a plaster. Just think how well you’ll sleep tonight once you’ve put in some quality fam time.”

“You’re always so right. It’s annoying.”

“But you love me anyway?”

Yaz pulled away, and a gentle look passed over her face that defied description.

“Despite your use of the word fam, yeah. A ridiculous amount.”

* * *

Jules thoroughly enjoyed her tour of Yaz’s family home although she was more than a little disappointed that Yaz’s old room had since been occupied by her sister. 

Her disappointment was tempered when she looked out the living room window.

“Look at your views,” she enthused. “I can see the training ground from here.”

“Training ground?” Hakim asked, distracted. He’d donned an apron and despite her offers to help, had insisted that Jules make herself at home instead while he cooked.

“Football, dad. It’s how we met.”

“Of course,” he sighed. “How could I forget. Who’s your favourite player, Jules?”

“Messi, without a doubt. Although I’m also a big fan of Bank End’s new striker.”

“You’re joking. I go and see them play whenever I can,” Hakim replied, pakoras suddenly forgotten.

“Wait, that’s your team, dad?” Yaz asked, bemused. “I knew he supported one of the local teams but I’d no idea it was that one,” she said to Jules. 

For her part, Jules was relieved that she had an instant connection with Yaz’s dad. It certainly made it easier to get a feel for the kind of person he was. 

“I go and watch games sometimes, too. I’m surprised I’ve not seen you there before. Or maybe I have, and just didn’t know it,” she mused. “We actually had our first date there.”

Yaz’s eyes widened as she clearly recalled just how that date had gone. Jules was relieved they hadn’t crossed paths that day, too, when she remembered how Wilf had interrupted them in the car park. Sheffield was a bit too small, sometimes.

“Maybe we can go and watch a game together?” Hakim suggested, returning his attention to the hob and turning off the gas. 

“I’d like that,” Jules nodded, and then she let herself be ushered into a chair as Najia finished laying the table.

Within moments, plates heaped with rice, curry, and bread were laid in the middle of the table and as the aromas hit her nose, Jules realised just how hungry she was. Night shifts weren’t the best for meals and the last thing she’d eaten was a custard cream as she’d come off shift several hours ago. 

“Dig in,” Hakim encouraged when he saw her looking longingly at the food in front of her. He took a seat at the head of the table and surveyed the spread, clearly happy with his output. 

“Yeah, don’t be shy,” Yaz smiled, taking a seat next to her, opposite her sister. Najia was sitting directly opposite Jules and she reminded herself to be polite and not pile her plate too high, as much as she wanted to. 

Najia at least let her get a few good mouthfuls in before she laid down the gauntlet. 

“So, Yaz tells me you two are moving in together?”

It wasn’t a question per se, but it very much felt like the start of an interview. Jules chewed and swallowed while she figured out how to reply. 

“Yeah, we thought it would be nice to take the next step. We spend most of our spare time together anyway, even at football.”

“Are you on the same team?”

“No, we actually play for different teams. But we kept crossing paths and got to know each other, and...well, one thing led to another.”

There was no way Jules was going to explain exactly how they’d ended up in a relationship because it was far too complicated. She didn’t think Najia would need to know about the complications with Bill, or about Missy, or about how things finally came to a head. But judging from Najia’s expression, the answer she’d given wasn’t quite detailed enough. 

“What is it you do, Jules?” Najia switched gears, and Jules wondered if she was deliberately trying to keep her on her toes. Her tone had changed a little too, to something a bit more interrogative.

“Mum, I told you already,” Yaz sighed.

“And is it wrong to want to hear it from Jules herself?”

Sonya rolled her eyes at that and Jules stifled a laugh. Now she was finally getting to see the Najia Khan that Yaz had alluded to. But Jules was more than used to dealing with all sorts of people, given the nature of her job. 

“I’m a doctor at one of the local hospitals. I work in A&E.”

Najia nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer at least. Jules started a mental tally of the questions she’d successfully answered and those she’d clearly not given a sufficient reply to. Thus far it was a close call.

“How are your hours? I imagine you have lots of shifts?” 

Jules nodded. 

“Yaz has lots of shifts too,” Najia pointed out. Again, there wasn’t quite a question in there but Jules read between the lines. 

“Yeah, but we make it work. It'll be a lot easier now that we're sharing a place.”

“And you're going to split the rent?”

Yaz’s hand gave Jules’s thigh a gentle squeeze under the table. 

“Yes, mum. Can we move on?”

Najia raised an eyebrow. The atmosphere had become a little tense; Jules sensed that Yaz was actually stressing out more than she was. 

“Have you discussed the future?”

“Mum,” Yaz warned. “We talked about this.”

Jules tried not to smile. It was kind of fun to see Yaz sweating, too.

“It's important that you talk about it, sweetheart. You have to be on the same page.”

“Alright that does it,” Yaz sighed, throwing in the metaphorical towel. The next best thing was folding up her napkin and dropping it on the table. “Even looking at my childhood pictures is less embarrassing than this.”

“Oh yes! How could we forget,” Hakim piped up.

“Dad, no. Another time, yeah?” Yaz pleaded. “I need to get out of these clothes before I can even think about that.”

“Alright, sweetheart,” Najia softened. She seemed to realise she’d crossed a line. Thankfully, they were at the end of the meal anyway, judging by the empty plates in front of them. Jules was certain she’d never eaten so fast but she felt pleasantly full and although Najia had given her a bit of a grilling, she totted up the mental tally and considered she hadn’t done too badly. She knew how to try and get more brownie points, though.

“Do you need a hand cleaning up?”

It worked; Najia was pleased she’d offered to help and she shot Jules a grateful look. 

“That’s alright, thank you, Jules. My husband burned the pots so he gets the joy of cleaning them. Sonya has the rest covered.”

“What?” Sonya looked up from her phone and Jules did a double take. She really was glued to it but Jules hadn’t even seen her take it out. 

“Give your sister a break. Today was a big day. And I know I’ve said it already, but we're so proud of you, love.”

Yaz relaxed a little as she realised her mum had stopped her line of questioning. 

“Thanks, mum.” Yaz got up as Hakim and Sonya started clearing the debris away. “I think we should probably head out before dad tries to give us those spare pakoras. And Jules no doubt needs to get an early night, she came off night shifts this morning.”

“Oh you should have said! You must be shattered,” Najia said sympathetically. The change in tone was so sudden that Jules wondered if she’d imagined the interrogation. She swallowed a yawn; eating so much food had made her more than a little sleepy.

“You know, there's a guest room here if you want to stay? It might be safer than driving.”

It was like Najia had read her mind. All Jules wanted to do was crawl into bed. She looked to Yaz, who seemed uncertain about the idea. 

“That might not be a bad idea,” Jules acknowledged. “I’ve got an overnight bag in the car, for emergencies. And I really don’t want to leave until I’ve seen those photos.”

* * *

“How are you doing?” Yaz asked the moment they were finally alone. The guest room was Sonya’s old room but Yaz’s dad had given it a fresh coat of paint and it was wonderfully calm after the day Jules had had. It was hard to believe she’d come off shift less than 12 hours ago, after everything that had happened in between. 

“Bit wired, actually,” Jules admitted as she flopped onto the bed with a contented sigh. It was very comfortable. She was exhausted but her mind was still churning, processing the conversations of the day. “I haven’t really done that before. Was I awkward? Not always the best at making parent-friendly small talk.”

“Babe, you could talk the hind legs off a donkey. You were great,” Yaz smiled, although she seemed just as tired as Jules felt. “My parents love you. Sorry they're a bit much. I think they were excited to meet you. It’s a first for them, too. I’ve never brought anyone home before.”

Yaz unbuttoned the top two buttons of her shirt but stopped when she saw what had been left on the dresser. 

“You know, I think this was her plan all along, getting us to stay. I'm so gullible,” she said as she picked up two new toothbrushes that had been left on top of the towels.

“Probably. But it's kind of sweet that she wants you here.” Jules crossed her legs at the ankle and watched as Yaz moved around the room. Although she was still a little out of her element, it was nice to finally have some time alone with Yaz to discuss the events of the day.

“Thanks for indulging her. And I’m sorry she gave you the third degree,” Yaz grimaced. “That's just what she's like.”

“Don't worry, Yaz. I don't blame her. She's only looking out for you, making sure I'm up to snuff.”

“Good thing you are, hey?” Yaz grinned, and she joined Jules on the bed, abandoning the task of undressing for the time being in lieu of giving Jules the kiss she’d hankered after for hours. 

“Mm. She's right, too. There are some things we should talk about.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah. The future…” Jules raised her eyebrows, waiting for Yaz to cotton on. 

“She definitely wants grandkids,” Yaz sighed, and dropped back to the pillows. 

Jules was relieved that Yaz knew what she was inferring and hadn’t shied away from the topic. Down the hall, the sound of a kettle boiling was just about audible, and then the faint but recognisable sound of the Coronation Street theme tune reached them. Najia was no doubt settling in for her soap, unaware that she’d prompted a conversation Jules had been contemplating for several weeks. 

“Yep. We haven’t really talked about longer-term plans, I know.” Jules reached for Yaz’s hand and interlinked their fingers, taking a second to marvel at how well they slotted together. She took confidence from that, and made the most of her tiredness because it meant she had far less fear about asking the obvious question. 

“Do you? Want kids, I mean, not grandkids.”

“I got that,” Yaz laughed. “Maybe,” she shrugged. Jules felt her chest fill with warmth at her answer. “I honestly hadn't given it much thought before. What about you?”

“I'm not averse to the idea,” she acknowledged. “I'm like you. I’ve not really thought about it before now. But now...now, it doesn't scare me as much as it once might have.”

The hand in hers squeezed gently and Jules brought it up to her mouth and kissed the back of it. They’d made tentative steps and she was reassured that they were on the same page, at least.

“Well at least we don't have to worry about any accidental pregnancies while we figure things out.”

Yaz laughed again, and Jules felt the warmth in her chest start to increase. She loved making Yaz laugh. 

“Talking of...now that we finally have time alone,” Yaz said. “You passed the test with flying colours. Ready for your reward?”

She started to tug at Jules’s tie. 

“Yaz, you're distracting us from a serious discussion,” Jules protested half-heartedly. She stopped protesting entirely when Yaz reached for the fly of her trousers.

“Which we can resume another time, I promise, but right now I have more short-term plans.”

Their next kiss was a lot more heated than the last and despite her exhaustion, Jules felt her body responding instantly. 

“Yaz, we can't,” she murmured, but she really wasn’t sure she meant it. 

“We can. You just have to be quiet. Think you can manage that?”

Yaz captured her response with her mouth and Jules forgot what they were talking about entirely.

* * *

The smell of burned toast woke Jules the next morning. She was shocked to realise she’d slept for 10 solid hours, given the unfamiliar environment, but chalked it up to a hearty meal and Yaz’s company in a strange but very comfortable bed. 

Yaz was already awake and scrolling through her phone while she waited for Jules to wake up. The moment she saw her eyes were open she shoved her phone under her pillow and shuffled over for an early morning cuddle. It was Jules’s favourite part of any day. 

“Morning.” She spoke into the crown of Yaz’s head and left a kiss there.

“Morning.” 

Jules let her eyes drift closed as she soaked up the sounds and the feel of Yaz in her arms. The kettle was boiling again and she was sure she could just about make out Yaz’s parents talking quietly. It was strange to be in a family home; she wasn’t used to the sounds but they were instantly comforting. 

“It's nice, knowing you have them down the hall,” she said.

“Yeah. I kind of miss them sometimes, even though they drive me mad.”

“I think I can understand why.” Jules finally opened her eyes properly as Yaz stroked her arm. There was a question in Yaz’s eyes and even though she’d only just woken up, Jules could see it as plain as day. She knew that Yaz wanted to ask her something and she could sense what it was about. The sounds of family life were an apt backdrop and it wasn’t really surprising that Yaz might be thinking along the same lines as Jules was.

“And I think I know what you're thinking.”

Yaz blinked in surprise. It was one of Jules’s favourite things about Yaz: how expressive her face was, and how she often didn’t realise it. 

“Sorry, babe. You don't have to talk about it. I can sense it’s not an easy topic.”

“Really?” Jules shifted, and rubbed at her eyes. 

“Yeah. I like to think I can read you a bit better than before. Every day is a learning day, and all.”

Jules considered her options. She could avoid the topic, as she had done until now, knowing that it would come up again at some point in the future. But she’d suggested Yaz rip the metaphorical plaster off the previous evening and it seemed like now might be a good time for her to take her own advice. Prolonging the inevitable didn’t often end well. She felt safe, and she could dictate the path the conversation took rather than it being forced upon them somehow. Now was probably as good a time as any.

“I don't know what you'll make of it,” she admitted. “I don't tell anyone this.”

“Hey, you don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to. It’s alright.”

“No, I think you should probably know. If we’re moving in together, I think you should know all about me. I don’t want you to get any unwelcome surprises about someone you live with.”

Jules could feel a tickle of nerves re-emerge, but she could also sense that divulging one of her deepest, longest-held secrets might actually be liberating. She knew Yaz wasn’t going to judge her. She took a breath and took a moment to get her thoughts in order. There was no point in dressing up the facts so she spoke plainly.

“My parents died when I was nine and I went into care. I don't have a family to speak of, for you to meet. I think that’s what you were thinking about?”

Yaz nodded, and her eyes shone with tears. Jules wondered if she should have explained things a bit more gently.

“Oh god. Jules, I'm so sorry.”

Jules instantly deflected the sympathy.

“Don't be. It wasn’t as bad as you might think, although I don’t remember a lot of it. My brain’s way of protecting me.” She shrugged. “But I think that's why I never really thought about having kids of my own. I didn't think the world was that nice a place for quite a long time.” 

_Now that you're in it, I think differently_.

“I can understand that,” Yaz murmured, and she reached for Jules’s hand. “Did you want to talk about it?” 

Now that she’d started talking, Jules found it easier than she expected to tell Yaz about her childhood. It wasn’t a part of her life she remembered well and she also didn’t make much of an effort to. But Yaz’s offer to talk about it kept the floodgates open and Jules let the words come out as she recalled what she could. 

“I had a foster mother, Mrs Tee. She was horrid. Cold and unloving as anybody you could meet.”

“Nothing like you then.”

Jules felt a pang in her chest as Yaz’s words sank in. 

“She’s not worth talking about, really. I didn’t like her from day one. She didn’t even remember my birthday.” 

Yaz gasped at the mention of it. “That’s why you didn’t celebrate your birthday? If I’d known-”

“I loved my birthday with you. You made up for it, Yaz. But I think that’s why I got out of the habit of remembering it, you know? It hurt less just to pretend it didn’t exist. That I didn’t exist. It was better to be...elsewhere.” Jules laughed mirthlessly as she suddenly recalled one of her coping mechanisms. “You’re going to laugh at this, though.”

“Never. Jules, I’d never laugh at you.” Yaz was deadly serious.

“I used to pretend I could travel through time and space. I’d read books and then imagine what it was like to be in them. To meet all these historical figures. Travel around the world, or wherever I wanted to go. There was no limit to my imagination. I buried my nose in books. But one day, there was a boy next door kicking a ball against a wall. Endlessly. I can't even remember his name, now. How awful is that?”

“What you said, about suppressing your memories…it’s not your fault you can’t remember.”

Yaz stroked her cheek and shifted closer while Jules continued to speak. 

“I used to climb out of my bedroom window to play with him, and that’s where it all started. I got so football mad that I used to show off in front of all the boys when I went to school.”

“I can imagine,” Yaz sniffed. “I bet you were a right tomboy. I mean, you still are.”

Jules felt her gut clench when she realised Yaz was trying not to cry. But even though she felt terrible for upsetting her, she’d clearly held onto these thoughts for too long. They’d festered, and it felt like a burden had been lifted by telling Yaz about them. By thinking aloud, she’d started to process them a little, too. 

“I told you how often I ended up in A&E, right? That was mainly due to showing off.”

“Some things never change, eh?”

“Oi,” Jules chuckled, even as the thoughts pained her. They were live and fresh again but she had Yaz to bear them with her. “It used to drive my parents mad and then...when they died, I lost the fear. That line between imagination and reality got a bit blurry and I didn’t really care,” she admitted, surprising herself with the realisation. That loss of fear had been a semi-permanent part of her life until only recently. 

Yaz pulled her into a hug and it was only then that Jules realised she was also tearing up. She felt numb but also lighter than she’d ever felt before. 

“I can't even imagine what that childhood was like. I wish I could have known you then. That is a hell of a tough journey. I'm proud of you,” Yaz stressed. “I’m so proud of you.” 

Even though she’d heard Najia say those very words to Yaz the previous day, Jules had never felt them directly. She didn’t know what to do with them.

“Yaz, you've got to stop inflating my ego before it bursts.”

“I still don't think your ego is as big as you make out, babe. And judging by your reaction, I don't think you're used to people telling you they're proud of you.”

Yaz was right. 

“Nobody's really been there to say it.”

“I am, now. And I'll tell you as often as you need to hear it.” Yaz swiped the pads of her thumbs over her cheeks. “Although your path to this point hasn't been smooth, I hope going forward the good times will make up a little for those shit times. You aren't your past, you know.”

“I don't want to be my past but it's part of me, no matter what. I don't really remember who my parents were. Sometimes I don't know who I am anymore. But,” Jules continued, before Yaz could reply, “it’s like a clean slate, in a way. It’s not all bad. Ever since you came along, it feels like a fresh start.”

Yaz nodded.

“Absolutely. We can figure it out together. And in the meantime, your family has expanded literally overnight, you know that? My dad has basically adopted you into our family now. My mum might have, too.”

“Your mum? Really? I think she could have killed me with her laser vision,” Jules joked, reverting to her usual coping mechanism: humour. She very much wanted to hear Yaz laugh again. “She’s probably doing it right now given how loud you were last night.”

To her relief and delight Yaz did laugh, then, the mood lightening by the second. It was a relief to have discussed the elephant in the room and Jules hoped they could continue to move forward, unencumbered by the past. 

“Hey, you were louder.”

“Always so competitive,” Jules smiled, and Yaz wrapped her arms around her once more. 

“Thank you for telling me,” Yaz murmured into her shoulder. 

“Thank you for listening. It was a lot.”

But Yaz shook her head. “It was what you needed to get off your chest at that point in time. And you can always talk to me about anything, alright?”

Jules thought about what Yaz had said; about how she had a family, now. Central to that was Yaz herself and when she thought of the future, Jules could only ever see Yaz in it. Once, that might have been a little frightening, but now Jules knew she’d make every effort to ensure it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sure you’ve guessed who Mrs Tee is meant to be but let me know if not!
> 
> All my new fics are going up on a separate site ( maglexfic.wordpress.com/new-stories/). I haven't necessarily quit ao3 and I hope to be back properly at some point, but if you want to read new content I'd recommend subscribing there for the time being :) And as always you can find me on twitter @_mag_lex.


	48. Domesticity (II)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pure fluff. Also! I've added a final chapter count because I think that's pretty much final, give or take a couple of chapters :)

“And through here, you’ll find the main hallway.” After momentary difficulty with the lock, the front door opened with a rather ominous creak. Jules tried not to read too much into that but already it was a mark against the place; she’d started a mental checklist from the moment they’d left the car and seen the apartment building. 

She made a polite sound and Yaz gave her hand a squeeze as they traipsed after the letting agent, a nice man named Brian who was very thorough. But after viewing six or seven flats with him, Jules had failed to click with a single one of them. While it helped that they still had the luxury of time - it was November, and Yaz had a couple of weeks until she even had to give notice on her flat - Jules couldn’t help but feel mild despair that they hadn’t found the right place. Time was going to run out before too long and she just hoped they’d find The One before then. 

In her mind, she had already pictured it. During quiet moments at work, Jules found herself daydreaming about their home together and what it would be like. It proved to be a very pleasant and distracting way to pass the time and she’d only recently realised what a risky preoccupation it had been because the idyllic images she’d curated in her mind were always going to fall short in reality, especially when the real thing didn’t even look the same as the photographs online. 

She would be the first to admit that her standards were ridiculously high, but only because she wanted their first flat together to be perfect. Jules had a feeling that they’d make some wonderful memories there; memories, both good and bad, that she hoped they could reminisce about in years to come. She’d never had a relationship serious enough to consider moving in with someone and neither had Yaz, so they were both in a similar position and more than aware of the significance of what they were about to do, but Yaz at least seemed to be taking things in her stride. 

By contrast, the amount of pressure Jules had placed on herself to find the perfect place was immense and certainly not helped by Brian, who waxed lyrical about everything from laminate flooring to curtain rails. Even as someone who had boundless enthusiasm for certain things, Jules simply couldn’t relate to him because everything he had shown them thus far just didn’t quite cut it in her opinion. 

“There’s a very good school nearby,” Brian piped up as they reached the living room, “if that’s something to think about. I know you were looking for a two-bed…”

He trailed off with a cheesy grin, and Jules resisted the urge to roll her eyes. After an awkward first meeting in which he’d assumed they were housemates, Jules had made it crystal clear that they were more than just friends. Yaz had been mortified by her bluntness and ever since had been overly nice to the man, but Jules was starting to find him more than a little tiring with each viewing.

“Can we have a nose around the gaff? Alone?” Jules cut in. She could already sense that this flat wasn’t going to be the right fit and that Brian was gearing up for the hard sell. 

“You alright, babe?” Yaz asked quietly as Brian finally left them to it. “I get the feeling you’re not a fan of this one, either.”

Jules sighed. She knew she was being difficult and while she didn’t necessarily mind making Brian’s life a little more challenging, she really didn’t want to put Yaz out. 

“Sorry, Yaz.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. But something’s up, it’s obvious. I thought you’d like this one, funnily enough. It’s why I saved it ‘til last. What are you thinking? Do you want to just wait a bit longer?”

Jules balked at the suggestion that they delay the move.

“No. No way. I want to do this. Every night we spend apart just makes me wish we could jump into the future.”

“Alright, alright, I get it,” Yaz grinned. “You can relax. But we’re not going to find a place at this rate, you know that, don’t you? Do you want to look in a different area? Maybe change the budget?”

After contemplating the suggestion for a moment, Jules shook her head. She knew that she’d probably have the same problem wherever they looked. It was all in her head. 

“Honestly? I want it to be perfect. I want it to be the best place for you, and for me. For us, together. Nothing is quite right.”

“Jules, don’t take this the wrong way, but...do you think you might be over-thinking this?” Yaz asked, brushing her hands over her shoulders and placating her with a kiss. 

It had the desired effect and Jules softened. 

“Possibly. It’s hard not to, though. I just see single glazing and worry you’ll get cold in the winter. Or an awkward kitchen cupboard that you’re too short to reach.”

“Oi,” Yaz laughed, giving her a gentle shove on the shoulder. “You’re not much taller.”

“But I’m still taller.”

“Shut up,” Yaz murmured, but she was smiling, and then she was kissing her again and Jules forgot all about her flat-hunting-induced stress. Instead, she brought her arms up behind Yaz’s shoulders and scooped her into a hug. 

“You know, I’m happy anywhere, right?” Yaz spoke into her shoulder. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Surely not that second one, though?”

“Oh. No, that really was far too small, you’re right,” Yaz acknowledged. “But my point is that I’m happy with any flat that you’re also going to be in. That’s the most important thing for me: the time we’ll spend in it. I don’t really care about the colour of the walls or the size of the shower. It’s not like we’re buying the place, after all.”

Jules smiled. Yaz did have a point. It was a more permanent part of their future but it wasn’t their forever home. They’d have other opportunities, and she was getting ahead of herself, which was almost telling. But it was hard not to think ahead when it was the first time she’d truly considered her future. It was ridiculously exciting, to the point where it had taken over most of her waking thoughts.

“And really, the only thing that matters?” Yaz continued, “is how we’re going to christen every room.”

“Keep talking,” Jules laughed, amazed that Yaz had managed to change her perspective so easily. 

“Let’s give this place a proper look and see what you can come up with,” Yaz smirked. “Master bedroom first?”

“Master bedroom,” Jules drawled. “I like the sound of that.” Yaz held out her hand and she took it, accepting that she might need to take a back seat this time around. “Lead the way.”

Brian seemed relieved to note a change in attitude as they emerged from the living room but took the hint and let them explore by themselves. 

“This is actually nicer than the pictures,” Yaz said as they entered the main bedroom, and even she sounded surprised. Jules had to agree; when she looked at things through Yaz’s eyes, it was easier to see the positives. “Pretty good views. And look, it faces the park.”

Jules was instantly intrigued. She’d chosen her current flat for the views alone and if they weren’t going to have any outside space, she at least wanted a decent view from the windows. A good view was very high on her list of things she actually needed, which, now that she thought about it, was far too long. Some needs could become wants, but on this one she wouldn’t budge.

She joined Yaz by the window and the moment she did, her eye was caught by movement outside. Some kids had set up an impromptu goal with their coats to play football and one of them had just scored.

“Look, Yaz,” she pointed. “Think it’s a sign?”

The kids couldn’t have been much older than eight or nine, mainly boys and a couple of girls. It was hard to ignore that there was one young girl in particular who seemed to be celebrating her goal with glee. 

“Hey look, it’s a mini you.” Yaz hugged her from behind. “Is this your equivalent of finding Jesus burned into toast?”

“Pretty much.”

The arms around Jules’s waist tightened a little. “How’s that tally looking?”

“What tally?” 

“The one you’re clearly calculating for each flat.”

 _Busted_. Yaz was getting too good at reading her. 

“This one is doing pretty good so far,” Jules had to admit. When she stopped being quite so critical, the place did have a certain charm about it. The absence of running commentary from a biased letting agent was a plus and it was a lot more relaxing having Yaz lead her around. She started to look at things differently. She focused instead on the basics, which were far more boring but reassuring: the ceilings were high enough that their upstairs neighbours wouldn’t cause too many problems, and when they checked the en suite, the water pressure was good. It helped to focus on the essentials and not get carried away with how reality stacked up to her imagination, which could run away with itself.

Next on the agenda was the second bedroom. 

“So. Spare room.” Jules twirled with her arms outstretched. “Nice size for….a karaoke room?”

Yaz shook her head. “Veto.”

“A foosball table?” 

“A spare room for guests,” Yaz replied neutrally, putting her hands on Jules’s shoulders to settle her. 

Jules decided not to push the conversation. They had agreed to look at two bedroom flats for "space". But whatever they ended up using it for, it was exciting to acknowledge that they had the freedom to consider whatever they wanted. And even though Yaz was trying to be financially sensible and look at places that weren’t too expensive, the fact that she was considering flats with a spare room was intriguing because they were all more expensive than what they strictly needed. 

“That's very practical.”

“Got to be practical, now. I don't want to move any time soon.”

“Hmm. You make a very good point.” Jules sighed happily. She didn’t want to move either, and the more she adjusted to the flat they were in, the more she realised she could see them at home there. “One last look at that bedroom?”

Brian was lurking in the hallway when they emerged but Jules made a beeline for the bedroom and started to visualise their furniture in it. They’d already started a list of things they’d need to buy and the moment she started picturing where it would all fit, she realised it was surprisingly easy to do so. 

“What are you thinking about?”

“Hmm? Oh. Where to put that bed we liked,” Jules replied, distracted. A warm hand settled on her lower back and she leaned into the touch, relieved that her imagination and reality had finally meshed together and become tangible.

“Someone’s coming around to the idea of this place, hey?” 

“Yeah,” Jules grinned. “And a bed is the most important piece of furniture we’re going to own, after the purple sofa.”

“I thought we’d agreed to be flexible on colour?”

Brian interrupted before Jules could reply. “Sorry, ladies, but I have another viewing of this flat shortly. I don’t know if you’d like any more information?”

Jules turned to Yaz. She nodded, and Jules broke out in a smile that prompted a sound of relief from Brian when she confirmed they’d like to make an offer. 

* * *

“You sure that measurement is right?”

“Trust me, I triple-checked. It should fit.”

Yaz frowned as she stared at the sofa. “It looks too big.”

“But Yaz…” Jules pleaded, plonking herself onto the cushions. “It’s so comfy. Come on.” She patted the cushion next to her. “Give it a whirl.”

Yaz sank into it with a sigh and the moment she did, Jules knew she’d won. “Alright. It is stupidly comfortable,” Yaz had to agree. “But we’re going to have to downsize on the coffee table.”

“Done deal.” Jules looped an arm around Yaz’s shoulder, pulling her into a loose, one-armed hug. Other shoppers were milling about the place but she was oblivious to them as they followed the arrows designed to lead them around the maze that was IKEA. 

“Alright, let’s see.” Yaz dug out their shopping list and the carefully annotated warehouse locations of all the furniture they were going to have to buy and build themselves. She went about things with almost military efficiency that Jules couldn’t help but admire and it was a good thing that one of them was at least paying attention because Jules was like a kid in a sweet shop, distracted by all of the carefully placed items that they definitely didn’t need but that she suddenly wanted. After Yaz had to talk her down from buying a magazine rack, of all things, Jules had begrudgingly ceded control of the list. 

“I think we’re pretty much done, you know. And I think I’m more than ready to get out of here, too. This place is chaotic.”

“Alright,” Jules agreed. Even though the shop wasn’t too busy, it was hard work trying to navigate around it and she’d wasted a lot of time looking at soft furnishings; she had to concede that she’d not made Yaz’s life particularly easy. “Come on.”

She heaved herself off the couch and pulled Yaz with her, boldly moving against the flow of people to find a shortcut. 

“You know this is breaking the rules,” Yaz laughed, but it worked; they ended up in the kids’ section by the exit. 

“Not a big fan of rules anymore,” Jules replied, but she couldn’t help but notice how Yaz slowed as they made their way to the end. 

“Babe?” They had ground to a halt near the beds and Jules had to squeeze Yaz’s hand to get her attention.

“Huh? Oh. Sorry. I kind of forget how small everything is for kids.” Yaz tilted her head. “Everything is so little. It’s kind of cute.”

“Cute, hey?”

Yaz pursed her lips, clearly regretting her choice of words.

“Not that kids are cute. Just their stuff.”

Jules bit back a smile but the conversation was derailed when Yaz spotted a cube of stuffed animals and picked one up, a rabbit. She kissed Jules’s nose with it.

“This reminds me of Mr Hoppy.”

“Mr Hoppy?” Jules wrinkled her nose at the tickle of artificial fur. 

“Oh, you've not met him yet, have you? I've had him since I was a kid. Big part of my life, he is.”

“You holding out on me?”

Yaz finally tugged her away towards the exit they needed.

“Thought I'd wait ‘til you moved in until I showed you my collection of stuffed animals. I’m pretty cool like that.”

Jules felt her heart warming at the idea that Yasmin Khan, a trained police officer, still possessed stuffed animals. She was sure she had one of her own when she was a child but it had been lost many years ago and she barely remembered it. 

“Hey, I look forward to meeting them. They’re extended fam.”

Thankfully, Yaz was distracted enough by the purchase of all their other items - including a pack of a hundred tea lights that Jules insisted on buying - that she didn’t notice the stuffed rabbit that made it through the till. 

* * *

It didn’t take long for Jules to pack up her flat. She didn’t have much of sentimental value and it was slightly depressing to see how few boxes her life could fit into. She hoped that would change going forward. On the plus side, her lack of belongings meant that it wouldn’t take long to move her boxes into Yaz’s flat, where she was to spend the Christmas holiday; although both of them had shifts on the day itself, they’d managed to secure some days off afterwards to recover and pack up the rest of Yaz’s belongings. They would be in a strange kind of limbo until they got the keys to their new flat in the first week of January. In that time, they’d be closing a chapter of their lives before they moved onto the next one. And it was a big chapter. 

There was a sense of nervous excitement in the air when Jules arrived on Christmas Eve to see that Yaz had already made a decent head start; her flat was slowly but surely becoming devoid of her touch as she boxed things up. There was a Christmas tree up, though, and the fairy lights cast a soothing glow around the half-empty room. But all things considered, it didn’t much feel like Christmas Eve, or at least not a normal one.

“Wow. It’s weird, isn’t it?” Jules said as she spotted how empty the room was. She was taking a breather before the next run down to her car and Yaz was pulling some shoes on to help.

“Yeah. I’ve kept some things out just so it doesn’t look too cavernous, you know? It’ll echo in here otherwise.”

“You’ve got loads done, though. I’m impressed.”

“Why thank you,” Yaz grinned as she finished tying her laces, but Jules could tell how tired she was. Moving house just after Christmas was probably one of the more stressful times to do it, especially given how busy work had been for both of them.

With Yaz’s help, it didn’t take long to get the rest of her belongings moved in. She was technically homeless, sheltered by Yaz for the next couple of weeks, but the unusual reality of the situation was made much more bearable by the fact that they were in it together. They could weather whatever upheaval ensued as a team. It also helped that their actual football teams had offered to help with the move when it finally came, because Yaz certainly possessed a lot more than Jules did, by the look of things.

Jules sighed as she deposited the last of her boxes by the front door and straightened, suddenly recalling her first visit to Yaz’s flat.

“You know what’s funny?” she mused. “It’s almost a year to the day that I first came here.”

“How could I forget? You were all banged up and hurting.” Yaz tilted her head sympathetically as she finally closed the door behind them. 

“Not a high point, no,” Jules conceded as she kicked off her shoes “And if you’d told me then where I’d be now, I wouldn’t have believed you.”

Yaz smiled softly; it was clear she was affected by the memory as well.

“It didn’t really click for me that a lot happened at my old place, too,” Jules continued and Yaz wordlessly pointed her in the direction of the couch as she put the kettle on. It was so easy to settle into the flow of things without even speaking. Jules wondered when that had happened. It was a true comfort on an emotionally draining day to be in Yaz’s company. And from now on, she would have Yaz to come home to every day. The thought sent a thrill through her, despite her mix of emotions.

“Remember that night I took you home after the social?” Memories were coming thick and fast, so many of them, but there were a couple of landmark ones that never failed to make Jules smile.

“Oh god. I was dying of embarrassment the next day.” Yaz spoke up over the noise of the kettle. 

“Or how about that time you came over after Berlin? That was a nice surprise.”

“Now that’s a better memory,” Yaz smiled as she poured hot water into their mugs. Jules spotted that her favourite mug had been kept out especially. It was a simple gesture but it meant the world and when Yaz handed her a cup of perfectly brewed tea, she kissed her by way of thanks. 

“Did you manage to get that smoke alarm back on the wall in the end?” Yaz asked as she took a seat next to her with a tired sigh. It had clearly been a long day for both of them, especially if they were talking about a smoke detector.

But that chunk of plastic had been a curse on the night that Jules had cooked for their first anniversary. They’d mutually chosen their night in Berlin as their first date, of a sort, but to Jules it was far more than that: it was the night her life had completely changed course. So, to celebrate, she’d insisted on cooking a ridiculously complex menu that had been far beyond her culinary capabilities; the half demolished smoke detector stood testament to that, as had the fact that they’d had to order pizza for dinner instead. 

“No,” she grumbled, and held out her injured thumb. “Bloody thing fought back when I tried to get it back on so I gave up.”

“Oh, babe,” Yaz sighed, and she pulled Jules’s hand to her mouth to kiss the wounded skin. “Please tell me you didn’t use a hammer?”

Once again, a simple gesture was conveyed with such easy intimacy that it left Jules stunned. How had she got this lucky? She shook her head dumbly - it had been a screwdriver that was responsible for the wound - and it was only when Yaz released her hand that she could string words together.

“You know, I, er...I didn’t realise until I handed the keys in that I was sad to leave it,” Jules finally continued. “I’m so excited for what’s to come that I didn’t even think about what I was leaving behind, even if I wasn’t that attached to it. I swear I don’t normally get so sentimental about these things.” 

“It was your home, Jules. I mean, you probably didn’t spend much time in it, given all of your extra-curricular activities-”

“Please tell me you did not just describe yourself as an extra-curricular activity?”

“But- no, shut up. I’m being serious,” Yaz huffed, but Jules could tell she was trying not to smile. “My point is, you lived there for a while. And even if you don’t have that much stuff,” Yaz gestured to the boxes, “it was a home to your stuff. And to you.”

“Yeah, I guess. I think I just didn’t really have good memories of it until recently. And those memories are some of the best.”

“I think I know how you feel.” Yaz looked around her living room as she cradled her mug. “You turned up not long after I moved in here and I’ve only ever associated this place with you. I’m going to be sad to leave it because of the memories we’ve made here.”

Jules left her mug on the coffee table and encouraged Yaz to do the same before she pulled her into a hug. While she had found it surprisingly hard to leave her home behind, it hadn’t occurred to her that Yaz might be even more sad to leave hers.

“It’s gonna be ace, Yaz. I promise.”

“Oh, I know. It’s okay to be sad, though. This is...happy sad, if that makes sense? This was my first place of my own and it took a lot to get here. But I know what’s coming next is going to be amazing.”

“I just don’t like to see you sad, is all.”

“I know. But when I do feel sad about it, you know what I do? I think about the new memories we’re going to make together. In our new place.”

“Our new place, huh? I like the sound of that.”

“But it’s not the end of this place yet. We still have time to make some more memories here. If you catch my drift.” Yaz wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and Jules forgot about her tea. 

“It’d be a true shame to miss this opportunity now that you’ve spotted it. Good catch.” Jules hooked her fingertips into the waistband of Yaz’s jogging bottoms and tugged suggestively. “Where shall we start? I think the bedroom is where we’ve spent the most time here so it’d make sense to move things there.”

“I think you make a very compelling case,” Yaz smirked as Jules started to ease the material down her legs. “Not that I needed much convincing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, you can find me on twitter @_mag_lex. 
> 
> My new fics are only going up on maglexfic.wordpress.com/new-stories/ for the time being :)


	49. Long-distance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annnd we’re back! I wanted to get this out sooner but I’m trying not to add pressure to myself and the past week has been weird to say the least. I also realised it’s the one year anniversary of this fic on March 1, and I’m gonna do my best to post chapter 50 on that day to mark the occasion! 🙂 It’s a doozy.
> 
> Just a heads up that there is some very mild smut in this about 2/3 of the way through.

_6 months later_

* * *

“I think I’m already homesick.” 

Jules frowned at the departure board. She needed her glasses but they were in her hand luggage and she didn’t want to relinquish her hold on Yaz’s hand until the last possible second. That moment was imminent but she was keen to delay it for as long as she could. 

“You’ve not even left the country yet.”

“It’s not the country I’m going to miss.” 

Jules abandoned her attempt at reading the board. Yaz was much more appealing to look at. Around them, despite the early hour, there were hundreds of people milling about in queues that snaked throughout the concourse, waiting to check in and board flights to destinations worldwide. Jules reminded herself that at least the city she was flying to was one she’d wanted to see for a while, and that in itself was exciting. It just so happened that Yaz wouldn’t be going with her. But she’d insisted on driving Jules to Manchester so that she could at least see her off at the airport, which was small consolation.

“I’ll still be here when you get back.”

“I don’t know...I can imagine you having wild house parties in my absence, Yaz, and running away to join the circus.” Jules tried to perk up. She knew she was being a little miserable but now that the reality of what she was about to do had hit, she found herself nervous at the prospect.

“Bill’s already suggested we have one while you’re away - for team bonding purposes-”

Jules started to voice her disapproval but Yaz swiftly cut her off.

“-but I said that it wouldn’t be fair without you there.” 

“Well, that’s something,” Jules grumbled. She squinted at the board again. She knew she should probably get a shift on but she was torn between moving forward and leaving Yaz behind. Why had she signed up to do this again? It was good experience but she hadn’t considered quite how attached she’d gotten to Yaz and how hard it would be to separate for the first time. Then again, there had to be a first time for everything and at least this would be a relatively brief separation in the grand scheme of things. 

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but...you should probably go.” Yaz seemed apologetic for pointing it out and Jules resolved to brighten up a bit. Yaz was going to be home alone for the best part of a week; it was hardly going to be fun for her, either.

“Yeah,” she smiled, and chucked Yaz under the chin. “Sooner I go, sooner I come back, right?”

Yaz laughed, and the sound lightened the lead in Jules’s chest. She pulled Yaz close. 

“I’m not sure time works like that, babe, but I hope you’re right. I’m going to miss you.”

“I’m going to miss you, too,” Jules replied, breathing Yaz in for one last time. That contact would have to sustain her for several long and lonely days. 

“You’re lucky you’re missing my dad’s birthday. He’s been ‘perfecting’ his pakora recipe.”

“I like his terrible pakoras.”

“And that’s why he likes you.”

Yaz gave her one final squeeze and pulled away. Then she reached for the chain around her neck and unclasped one of the necklaces that she always wore: the letter A.

“Here. Something that’ll remind you of me,” she said, holding out the chain. Jules ducked her head so that Yaz could put the necklace on her, instead. The moment she felt the gentle weight of it against her chest, Jules couldn’t help but touch it. “I’m not complete without you.”

It might have been the early hour or the torrent of emotions that Jules was feeling but the sentiment caught her off guard and she was stumped for a reply. 

“Sorry, that was a bit intense, wasn’t it?” Yaz shook her head sheepishly.

“Not at all,” Jules uttered. “You’re on my mind every day, Yaz. There’s not a chance I won’t be thinking about you. But this is the next best thing to having you there.”

Jules knew she was going to lose her composure if she lingered any longer. 

“Alright. I’m doing it. I’m going.” Jules had to say the words aloud to actually convince herself to start moving. “But I’ll be back, and I’ll bring you all the presents I can fit in my suitcase. If you can’t come to San Fran, I’ll bring it back to you.”

Yaz was teary as she stepped away. “Please don’t overdo it. They’ll fleece you on overweight luggage, for a start.”

“Small price to pay to see you smile again.”

The smile that Yaz gave her then was tinged with sadness as they finally parted, and that smile remained in the forefront of Jules’s mind all the way to California. From the moment she was alone, she started a mental countdown of how long it would be until she saw Yaz again. She tried not to think about it too much, because five days already felt like far too long, but it helped to know that at least the ball was in motion. 

Those five days without Yaz were going to be busy, too - the best part of two days spent travelling, and then three days of an emergency medicine conference that she’d put her name down for the previous summer. It had been a bit of a punt, and she hadn’t expected to be able to go, but to her surprise her request had been approved. The downside was that she was the only member of the department who could attend, so other than meeting new faces during the conference itself, Jules would be spending most of the week alone. 

The films on the plane were truly terrible but they were better than watching the map, which showed the plane as it inched across the Atlantic. It took hours for it to make decent progress and with every inch its slow progression only served to remind Jules of just how much distance lay between her and Yaz. Instead of focusing on their destination, she found herself looking at the UK and touching the necklace Yaz had given her. She wondered what Yaz was doing; if she’d managed to get to work in time that morning, what she was going to do for dinner, and if she’d watch their programme without her, even though she’d promised Jules she wouldn’t. All of those things were taking place while Jules was sitting on a plane, incommunicado. The thought made her restless.

They didn’t often text each other during the day - work often got in the way - but Jules found herself longing to pull out her phone and contact Yaz. The fact that she couldn’t just made the distance feel even greater.

* * *

It was something of a blessing that jetlag finally knocked Jules out that evening because landing in San Francisco was more than a little exciting. Stepping off the plane and into different air was invigorating and the flight had been long, so it was a welcome change of scene. It was also wonderful to finally get off the plane and stop irritating the woman sitting next to her with her bouncing leg, which was a habit that Yaz normally calmed with a gentle touch. Jules had apologised profusely to the stranger and they’d ended up chatting intermittently for the remainder of the flight, which had also been a nice distraction.

She texted Yaz as soon as she was able, but it was the middle of the night in Sheffield and she wasn’t expecting much in the way of a response; to her surprise, Yaz replied immediately, although her message was full of typos and she was no doubt half asleep. Jules confirmed she had landed and encouraged Yaz to put her phone on silent, relieved that they’d at least made contact. Her gaze was otherwise completely diverted on the drive from the airport to her hotel. It felt like a different world and Jules wanted to take everything in, her mind whirring with all of the new information. Always, at the back of it, was Yaz. 

What would Yaz make of this? she thought, and resolved that they really would have to come back together, if only so she could see her reaction. San Francisco was very different to Sheffield.

By the time Jules had checked in, unpacked, and showered, her normally boundless energy reserves took a dip and she fell asleep watching CNN in a last-ditch attempt to stay awake. She gave herself a mental pat on the back for allowing herself some time to adjust because when she woke up at 4am the following morning, feeling surprisingly awake for the time of day, her only plans for that day were to sightsee, eat, and sleep. 

Yaz, of course, was already awake and had left her several text messages and a selfie to start the day, which made Jules smile. Although it was strange to wake up in bed alone, the photograph went some way to making Jules feel more at home. It was odd at first, an unfamiliar feeling, but then Jules realised that she already missed their home together. She really was homesick. They'd only been in their flat for a few months and it already felt more like home than anywhere she'd lived. Jules knew it was Yaz, not the flat, who was responsible for that.

She sent a reply and when it became apparent that Yaz was nowhere near her phone, Jules pulled open the curtains. Dawn was on the horizon and she had a brand new city to explore. 

When Yaz finally did respond, Jules had made it to Coit Tower. The buzzing in her pocket puzzled her for a second until she realised someone was calling her and then she almost dropped the device in her hurry to retrieve it. There was only one person likely to be calling her and she grinned when she saw Yaz’s face on the screen. 

“Hey, Yaz.”

“Hey, you. God, it’s so nice to hear your voice,” Yaz sighed down the line and Jules felt a tightness in her chest at the sound. Yaz was in her ear but she was also so far away. Even if she left, right that second, it would take several hours until they could reunite. Jules shook her head and tried to swallow the thought. 

“And yours. You ok?”

“Ah, you know. The usual. Back at home for dad’s birthday. How’s San Fran?”

Jules felt a smile tug at her lips. She’d been waiting for this moment.

“Let’s just say I’m a San Fancisco of San Francisco.”

Yaz groaned down the phone. 

“I was waiting for something like that. But- just a minute!”

Yaz spoke away from the phone; Jules could hear someone in the background and realised their call was going to have to wrap up just as it started. 

“I wish I could speak for longer and hear the rest of your terrible jokes, but dinner’s ready. I’m really sorry.”

“Hey. You don’t need to apologise. Say happy birthday to your dad for me?”

“I will. He’s saving you some cake.”

The thought put a genuine smile on Jules’s face. 

“I love you.”

“I love you, too. Stay safe over there and show me what you get up to? I’m jealous of what you’re getting to see.”

Reluctantly, Jules ended the call but she resolved to give Yaz a running commentary of her day, as requested. She lost count of how many selfies she took, in the end; San Francisco was aesthetically pleasing and a world apart from Sheffield. As she neared Alcatraz and the Golden Gate Bridge, she sensed an opportunity for more of her trademark jokes. She just wished she could see Yaz’s response, but texts would have to suffice.

_Did you hear Alcatraz is going up for sale? It’s a tough cell._

Yaz was clearly still busy when she made it to the bridge and she sent her a photo, continuing the thread. 

_Waiting for your reaction to my last joke. The suspension is killing me_

Yaz finally responded on her walk back towards Fisherman’s Wharf.

_Your dad jokes are only ever getting finer as you age, babe_

_When does a joke become a dad joke? When it becomes apparent_

_I’m glad I didn’t hear that with my own ears. I only just got home, I’m sorry I missed all these in real time_

Jules did the maths. It was nearly midnight at home, but Yaz was now free and she was eager to hear her voice again. Their earlier call had been cut short, after all. 

_Do you have an early shift?_

_Yeah, 6-3. Bill’s going to pick me up thank god. I’m wiped._

Jules shelved the idea for another time. Yaz was no doubt drained from the drive to the airport and she didn’t want her to lose any more sleep on her behalf. The fact that she even admitted she was tired spoke volumes. Then, inspiration struck. 

_You should sleep. I’ve got some shopping to do_

_You sure?_

_Yeah, I’ll end up talking your ear off_ . _I’ll try and catch you in the morning?_

With a promise that they would catch up before the conference started, Jules pointed her aching feet in the direction of Union Square, eager to explore off the beaten track. By the time she made it back to her hotel that evening she was absolutely exhausted but incredibly satisfied with how the day had turned out, even if her feet protested the distance she’d covered. It had been a day full of surprises and discoveries that she would remember for a long time to come.

Her feet were grateful for the rest that the conference provided. It involved a lot of sitting down, to the point where Jules actually struggled to pay attention. Even with three coffees in her system, she fought to get out of the fug that jetlag had cast over her brain each morning. The timetable was intense, the days started early and ran long, and many of the people she met while browsing the posters struggled to understand her accent. It was draining and exciting and the routine of each day meant that they all kind of rolled into one.

To top it all off, despite her best efforts, there was barely any time to speak with Yaz. On the last day, though, Jules awakened to a surprise in her messages.

_I miss you. I’m so glad you’re coming home tonight._

The picture that accompanied the message was of Yaz, in bed, naked. Jules had to draft her response more than twice to remove typos.

 _Wow. I can’t tell if I’m still dreaming_

_Are you still in bed?_

_Yeah_

_Show me?_

Jules pulled a face as she considered how unhappy she felt with herself. Yaz look stunning, but Jules...well, Jules spent most of her working day on her feet so spending the best part of three days seated and eating more fast food than she should have - she’d forgotten what vegetables looked like - meant that she opted for a less revealing shot that focused on her face. Even then, she looked far more tired than she’d have liked. The toll of the week seemed too evident, but Yaz didn’t seem to notice.

 _Gorgeous. You look so good._

_I doubt it….all I’ve eaten is cheeseburgers. I’m going to end up with a pot belly. I miss exercise._

_I doubt that. I wish I could show you how attractive I think you are._

Seconds later, another picture came through; Yaz was still in bed and this time her hand was underneath the sheets. 

Jules gawped at her phone again. She clearly hadn’t seen Yaz naked in too long, even if it had only been a few days. She’d taken it for granted after several months of seeing her on a daily basis. Never again would she make that mistake. 

_That's how hot you are, babe. And I love your stomach. It always feels so firm under my hands. And my mouth._

Jules abandoned all hope of composing a legible message and called Yaz, instead.

“Where’s that mouth going?”

“Up, first. I want to kiss your neck, hear that sound you make when I do that.”

Jules felt her face flushing. She knew exactly the sound Yaz was referring to because she’d pointed it out once and she’d never failed to notice it ever since. Even though she tried to stop herself, Yaz had a very talented mouth that always managed to tease it out.

Yaz sighed down the phone and Jules had a theory about what she was doing. 

“Are you still in bed?” she knew the answer but she wanted to hear it from Yaz herself. 

“Uh huh.”

“Are you still touching yourself?” 

Yaz moaned slightly but the sound was cut short as she replied. 

“Maybe.”

“Don’t hold back on my behalf,” Jules encouraged as her hand drifted lazily down to her chest. She absently touched herself there but her focus was on Yaz.

“You want to hear me?”

“Absolutely. You sound so good, Yaz. I miss hearing your voice and I miss hearing you, full stop. Remember that time in the shower? You had such a hard time keeping quiet. But you don't need to be quiet now. It’s just me.”

Jules felt her body respond to the groan that Yaz emitted in response, and then a completely different sound cut through the conversation.

“What the..”

Jules pulled the phone away from her ear, confused by the shrill sound that was most definitely not Yaz. Her alarm was going off and she swore when she realised the time. She still had to get ready and pack and check out. Her time with Yaz was about to be cut rudely short, just as things were about to get interesting.

“Jules?”

Yaz’s voice, quieter now, emerged from the speaker and Jules jabbed at the alarm to shut it up before putting the phone back to her ear.

“Sorry, Yaz. I’m really sorry, believe me, but my alarm just went off.”

Jules flopped back onto the bed and groaned again. She was wound up to an uncomfortable degree but the realisation that she had to get up and start her day had somewhat halted her momentum.

“That’s ok, baby. I’ll wait.”

Although Yaz seemed to take it in her stride, Jules was disappointed at the interruption. The thought of Yaz denying herself was almost worse than not being there in person. 

“You should carry on,” Jules insisted. “At least one of us should have fun.”

“Nope. It’s just not the same without you, to be honest. Don’t be late on your last day. You told me there was a keynote speech, right? I don’t want you to miss out.”

“I’m missing out on you, though.”

The homesickness that Jules had tried to keep at bay for the past few days came back with a vengeance, which was ironic given that she was in the home straight. She’d done well to make it to that point but now she was at risk of crumbling at the final hurdle.

“I’ll make it up to you. I promise. In less than a day you can have me all to yourself.” 

The thought instantly eased Jules’s discomfort at the distance between them. She’d be able to reach out and hold Yaz before long and there was also the prospect of a long weekend together to make up for such a tiring week.

“I’m so glad I’m coming home tonight.”

“Not long to go now, hey? I’ll meet you at arrivals tomorrow morning? Keep an eye out for my text.”

“I love you, Yaz. I can’t wait to see you.”

Jules reluctantly hung up and hurriedly threw her clothes in her suitcase. There was no point in packing them carefully - they’d all end up in the wash - but she took greater care packing her presents for Yaz. One purchase in particular was going to stay with her for the entire journey home, and she stowed it carefully in her hand luggage. 

The flight back felt even longer than the one out but this time, Jules couldn’t stop watching the plane as it inched closer to the UK. She stayed up for the flight, telling herself it was the best way to beat jetlag, when really she was fizzing with nervous energy.

The dregs of that nervous energy propelled her through the sliding doors at arrivals 10 hours later. This time she was wearing her glasses - she didn’t want to risk missing Yaz - and as she’d already mentioned by text, she was standing just to the right-hand side amongst a small group of people who were also eagerly awaiting their loved ones. Yaz was holding some flowers and a hand-made sign and Jules broke out into a grin when she saw the effort she’d gone to.

She made it to a few feet away before she let go of her suitcase and opened her arms to wrap Yaz in a hug. 

“There you are,” she murmured in her ear, holding on tight. “I’m not letting go of you ever again.”

The feel of Yaz laughing in her arms was so comforting that Jules truly struggled to end the hug. It was only when Yaz reminded her that the airport parking was extortionate that she reluctantly let go. 

Despite her exhaustion, Jules couldn’t stop talking throughout the journey home; she was riding a high of exhilaration, relief, and joy at seeing Yaz again, although she also started to wonder if she might have burned herself out a little. Sure enough, by the time she settled down for a cup of tea that afternoon, her energy had well and truly started to wane. 

“You ok?” Yaz asked as she joined her. She settled into her side and Jules sighed contentedly as she felt the missing piece fall into place. 

“So ok. Very ok.” She blinked heavily and forced some more tea down. 

“You look like you’re about to fall asleep.”

“Nope. No chance. Just getting my second wind.”

“You can go to sleep, you know. Have a nap. You won’t miss out on anything.”

“I’ll miss out on you,” Jules frowned, although a nap did sound very appealing. She felt utterly wrung out now that she was home and dry.

A cool palm passed over her forehead. 

“You do feel a bit warm,” Yaz pursed her lips. “We have a few days to catch up. And I know you had grand plans for tomorrow, but we could just have a duvet day? I don’t think it’d hurt to stay put for a little bit.”

Jules yawned in response. 

“Now that you mention it, I’m probably a bit over-tired,” she admitted. “I didn’t get much sleep this week.”

“Do you want to go to bed?”

Jules nearly agreed until she remembered the contents of her suitcase. She’d unpack it properly later but right now she wanted to give Yaz her presents. She lurched to her feet and rummaged in her case for the items, and enjoyed watching Yaz’s reaction to her gifts, most of which were rainbow-themed and tacky. Her favourite was a cheesy keyring that she insisted Yaz use for her house keys. 

“These are more for you than me, I think,” Yaz laughed, holding up a huge bag of sweets that had very likely been responsible for making Jules’s luggage overweight. She wasn’t about to admit that, though.

“You might be right, there,” she confessed. “But look, I got you some nice chocolate,” Jules grinned, thrusting a beautifully wrapped bar under Yaz’s nose. 

“That’s better. Now, gift-giving ceremony complete...let’s get you to bed.”

Jules didn’t complain; it could have been the sleep deprivation, the jetlag, the intense week, or the fact that she had missed Yaz so much and was now finally home, but that combination of words or the tone of voice flicked a switch. Jules realised she never wanted to lose this. Ever. 

Yaz departed with a promise to wake her in a few hours. The moment she left, Jules moved her final gift from her hand luggage and hid it in her sock drawer. It was the most important of all the gifts she’d bought and she didn’t want it out of her sight for too long. But unlike the other presents, she didn’t want to just shove it under Yaz’s nose. She had to choose the perfect moment. After all, it was hopefully going to be the only time she’d surprise someone with an engagement ring.

She’d only just ended her call with Yaz on the first day and was on her way to do some shopping when she’d seen a couple who reminded her of herself and Yaz. Minutes later, she’d passed a jewellery shop and while she didn’t make a habit of looking in them, something caught her eye. With time at her disposal, she’d stopped to look and then she’d seen it: the ring she knew she was going to propose with. 

It was understated, gold, and set with a yellow sapphire. Jules could immediately picture it on Yaz’s hand. She had no idea how long she’d spent staring but it was long enough for the shop owner to invite her inside and then she just knew it was fate. She’d left that shop in near disbelief at what she’d just purchased, because she hadn't even remotely planned to buy such a thing, but she knew she’d made the right decision. She could feel it in her gut. Whether it would fit was another matter but she hoped it was close enough for now. 

Since she’d bought it, Jules couldn’t help but look at Yaz’s ring several times a day and now was no exception; before she closed the drawer, she took one last look for good measure. She’d even pictured it in her mind on the flight home, during which she had spent several hours thinking of just what she’d say to Yaz when she gave it to her. 

As promised, Yaz woke her several hours later for dinner. Jules felt truly out of it and refused to budge from the bed until Yaz suggested she get set up on the sofa with the duvet. She fed her dinner, then endless cups of tea, and they binge-watched their show in peaceful quiet and gentle conversation. Several times, Jules felt herself dozing and the gentle pressure of Yaz stroking her head was the only thing that kept her anchored to reality. 

If Yaz said yes, their whole lives would be full of peaceful moments like this one, she mused. And it was moments like this that would make up for tough times, or times they had to spend apart. While it had been nice to focus on her career for a few days, ultimately the most important thing in Jules’s world was right next to her. She hoped Yaz would say yes because no matter what happened - no matter what was to come - all Jules truly needed was to be able to come home to her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, you can find me on twitter @_mag_lex.  
> All my fics are up on maglexfic.wordpress.com, my new home! Be sure to subscribe there for the new stuff.


End file.
